


The In-between

by Muze



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: 50 Ways to Sanditon, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Love Letters, Mr. Crowe gets a personality besides drunk, Personal Journey, Romance, Themes of Loss, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Wedding Preparations, filling in the blanks, minor crossover with Poldark, minor crossover with Pride and Prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 144,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muze/pseuds/Muze
Summary: There’s quite some time between saying ‘Yes’ and saying ‘I do’. In the weeks running up to the wedding, Esther has got to come to terms with her past, her feelings and her future. She might not have been very in love when she got engaged, but will she by the time she gets married?Wedding night is E rated.
Relationships: Lord Babington/Esther Denham, Mr. Crowe/OFC
Comments: 305
Kudos: 228





	1. The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! And I think I'm going to try to make this my "50 ways to Sanditon" entry, though I'm not sure I'll check off all the prompts.  
> I'm going to do my best to include more of the other characters, but since we're in the uncomfortable period for Sidney, Charlotte and Stringer, it isn't going to be extremely happy. 
> 
> Since everyone knows I like to break my darlings, this fic will start out quite sad. However, since we're already in lockdown, we could all use some happiness and joy so I promise to keep it light, heart warming and with a happy end. No angst-filled journey this time, I promise! 
> 
> So what prompts feature in this chapter? "Sense" and "Low spirits".
> 
> Enjoy!

The morning of June 24th brought not joy and excitement into all rooms of Lady Denham’s city house. The Lady of the house herself awoke replenished and in good spirits. After all, her strength had returned to her and she had successfully rid herself of two troublesome charges without having her reputation suffer and the third one would very soon take on another name and would finally have the title and money Lady Denham had for the past ten years tried to arrange for her. Everything was working out just the way she wanted it, which suited her perfectly.

In a room which had just a week prior belonged to one she loathed, who had gotten the price she herself had pursued for years, Esther Denham awoke. She could not awake in a more opposing spirit than her great aunt. Everything Lady Denham celebrated, was a great cause of distress for her little niece.

The past five days, Esther had uncovered the infidelity and unreliability of her brother. The very thing her aunt and cousin had warned her of. Only she had faithfully defended her brother’s virtues, and had come out disillusioned and humiliated in every way. Not only did she have to cope with feelings of humiliation and stupidity, she had also lost the only person who had her confidence and affection.

That was hard and tough, but if it had been a private affair, she would have come to accept her brother’s true nature even if her self-confidence wouldn’t have recovered, but then her brother had outed her feelings in front of all of society – although in the end they had never truly crossed any line – and now everyone knew just what she was. No one could have missed it, and if they had, they would by now have been made aware of it. Every gentleman, baker and errand boy probably knew about the creepy siblings-in-law who were in love and had been living in a house together, all alone. The implications were horrendous, and her reputation doomed beyond any point of recovery.

She had barely wrapped her head around her brother’s betrayal before it had happened. Despite knowing her brother to be a vengeful creature, she still hadn’t expected him to betray _her_ and in such a way! It was adding insult to injury. She had been too shocked to defend herself. How she now wished she would have at least said something to defy his claims! She had let the only opportunity to deny his claims slip by and had only mustered a weak plea for him to leave without denying the rumours. Without a doubt her silence would be seen as admitting the truth.

And then, her vision of the world was further deconstructed. Despite mocking Sanditon’s inhabitants for years, they had come to her aid. She had never even bothered getting to know the town folk during her mourning period for her parents, and had never built a real connection to the people afterwards. Yet Sidney Parker had helped to remove her brother, and Miss Heywood and Mr. Parker’s ward had quickly stepped in and whisked her away, saving her from the prying ears and inquisitive eyes of the general public. These people had helped her, despite that she had never shown them kindness, indeed not only had she not ever done anything for them but they had been there for her right when she was at her lowest!

Just what had she all been wrong about? Her self-worth was completely obliterated. She had thought herself so smart, believing herself and Edward to be the only people who saw through charades, too good and clever for Sanditon society. Instead she turned out to be the worst judge of character, as she had trusted those whom she shouldn’t, and burnt every bridge before she’d even looked at what and who was on the other side by being completely unpleasant to everyone. And now Edward was gone, and only she remained, left in ruins, without anything and anyone, and it had all been her doing. She had been played, and she hadn’t even seen it.

But Lord Babington had. He’d seen it despite the bare minimum of conversation and contact, and had known about it while she was only just starting to comprehend it herself. She hated it and admired him for it at the same time.

It was all too much. She could not process her grief and humiliation and the entire situation with him. Her mind was one confusing mess of only half-finished thoughts. She couldn’t finish a single line of thoughts regarding him, and all she knew and felt was overshadowed and coloured by her feelings regarding Edward and herself. And all she knew, didn’t make sense.

He was in love with her, that she knew.

She was a stupid and poor goose who had never treated him kindly. Why did he even want her? She had done nothing to earn it. She didn’t know why he was in love with her.

He had asked for her hand twice, and she had accepted the second time, that she knew. But she didn’t know what to think of her acceptance.

She had only been in love with Edward, did her acceptance of Babington mean she had a fickle heart? Did her acceptance mean she was no better than her aunt who married for money as well? Was she just as hungry for money and comfort as Edward? Was she using Babington’s foolish affections for her personal gain or was she merely being sensible by accepting him?

She had meant to follow her aunt’s advice to be friendly to Lord Babington. She knew she could do no better than marrying a wealthy Lord. When her aunt had told her it was better to be married to someone who was in love with her, she had understood, for being in love had proved to be a painful experience.

Being in love gives the person who you were in love with a power over you. She knew Babington wouldn’t hurt her and she knew she would have a comfortable life if she accepted him should he ever propose again. Yet it had still felt wrong to spend time with him. He had not been unpleasant, but she felt bad when she spent time with him, especially when she started feeling happy. When she spent time with him, she was complying with her aunt’s wishes, and she had always felt disinclined to do as she was told.

Even worse, whenever she was kind to him, she could not help but feel like a monster. She knew he cared for her while he shouldn’t. She knew herself to be undeserving of his love yet she accepted it without pointing it out, which a good person would definitely do. Even worse, Edward had used her love to make her comply with his plans and ideas, and by being kind to Lord Babington while she knew her aunt and he himself envisioned a marriage, she felt like she was using his love for her own benefit.

If she had been any good at all, she would have rejected him.

However, thrown off of a metaphorical cliff and left to drown by Edward, the ship of society unwilling to pick up a poor penniless unpleasant person like herself, she was thrown a rope by the very person who had the most reasons to watch her drown. All alone and isolated, she could not help but be touched by a reached out hand, yet it had made her paranoid as well.

Everyone around her had turned out to be a cold cunning snake out for personal gain, and even though she had never seen him thus, she had wondered whether he wanted to use her low position knowing she had not a single prospect left. She had hardened her heart, certain that this time he would abandon her or offer her his hand in a victorious “well now you can’t refuse” way, and, feeling particularly undeserving of him, she had treated him coldly , but had been proven wrong once again.

_‘Why else would you have me as your wife?’_

_‘Because I want to make you happy. I could never try to lead or constrain you, Esther. All I ask is to walk through life by your side.’_

She could not help but accept. It was the only marriage proposal she would get. By a person who still thought she was worth marrying. By a person who wanted her despite her cold behaviour and previous rebuttal. By a person who had clearly proven to be kind and forgiving to a fault, and all of that while she had already been partial to him though she had always fought against those feelings. She could not help but selfishly accept him then.

What a mess her life was, just two weeks ago she had still believed in a future with Edward despite her growing fondness for Babington and her wavering faith in Edward’s morale. She had felt so confidant and sure back then, and now everything was a mess.

She didn’t even notice she was crying and hyperventilating until a servant came in and touched her. Her face was burning with heat and sticky with tears, her breathing interrupted and laboured.

‘Excuse me, ma’am, your aunt requires your presence downstairs for breakfast.’

‘Tell her I’ll… I’ll… I’ll… Damn… twenty minutes.’

The twenty minutes grew to be thirty before she arrived downstairs, having held a cold wet cloth against her face for over ten minutes until the redness faded away.

She halted as she heard her aunt’s screams, and quietly waited until the person present had left before joining her aunt. If she was a phoenix, she was a flaming one right now, spewing hate about “that despicable man” and “useless imbecile” during the entirety of breakfast.

The two Denham ladies spent their time separately, both preoccupied with their own concerns, until teatime.

Lady Denham noticed that her niece was in low spirits, and so decided to spare her from card games and the piano. Even she had to admit that the girl had gone through enough the previous day.

‘So, when may we expect your fiancé to come by?’

‘I don’t know. It’s up to him, isn’t it?’

‘I suspect we will need to make arrangements for the wedding quite soon. I take it you don’t want a winter wedding?’

Her niece was silent for quite a while, wistfully looking out of the window.

‘Does it matter what I want?’

‘Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re the one who said yes, are you not?’

‘You are the one who wanted me to marry him, were you not?’ she shot back.

‘Like my wishes have ever guided your behaviour!’

Her niece wasn’t goaded by her baiting and riling words, however.

‘Acting upon my wishes hasn’t served me well. Besides, what good is having an opinion. He’s the superior party and the man, he will get to decide anyways.’

‘Oh hush, have you seen the way that man looked at you? He would comply with anything you suggested.’

Esther shrugged off the suggestion of using his kindness even further.

‘I take it he’ll probably leave town within a couple of days, no doubt he’ll need to inform his family as well.’

This did reach the girl, confusion and wonder clouding his face. Family. She’d been so absorbed with her own affairs she was struck by the realisation that Lord Babington was also a person with a life and a family and connections, even though that was the most natural and evident thing on earth. He was friends with the middle Parker and the drunkard, but who else was he connected with? Who was he before he entered Sanditon? Did his parents still live and was he an only child? All these questions popped up in her head, one after the other, and all going without answer.

She knew next to nothing about the one person who had never given up on her despite having many reasons to do so. Now he would have to put up with her forever. She’d kept him at distance at first as she had not been looking for a husband and had been taught by Edward to never trust anyone, but as she did she had also kept her distance from him.

‘I guess.’

She still didn’t know how to feel about him, but as their union was inevitable, she could at the very least start being kind to him and make an effort to learn about him. She owed him that much.


	2. Chaperones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The official engagement of Esther and Babington has begun. But before their courtship can continue, arrangements need to be made while taking Esther's reputation into account.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "50 ways to Sanditon" challenge hosted on tumblr by sanditoncreative. Prompts used: Mortified, Taking the air, Courtship

But that's just my see through heart  
I can't hide the way I'm feeling  
And that's just the funny part  
I don't even know I'm bleeding  
But you have ways of seeing through

**_See through heart,_ [SEBELL]**

Lord Babington generously granted his fiancée three days to partially process all recent events before presenting himself. Though most definitely distracted by thoughts of his fiancée and most especially by the kiss she’d bestowed upon him, he had been preoccupied by the misery of his best friend. He had tried his best to search for solutions alongside him. To be absolutely honest, he had always picked up on the moods of his friends, and could not help but worry for them all the time, so the visit to his fiancée was both to check up on how she was faring and an attempt to forget his worries and lighten his mood.

He was let in and brought to the entertainment room he had previously been let in. Lady Denham was sat at a table, playing cards with herself. At first, he believed the old widow to be on her own, before he spotted a shimmer of copper near the window. Partially obscured by the heavy curtains, Esther Denham was sat on a window sill, fully immersed in her book. Or perhaps, she pretended to be absorbed just to show him she found everything more interesting than him, one never knew with her. It brought a smile to his face.

After that awful evening, he wanted her to be relaxed enough to enjoy herself. She deserved a break.

‘Ah, Lord Babington!’ cried the old woman, raising her eyebrows instead of herself to greet him. She made no indication he could sit down.

‘What brings you here?’

It was a silly question, and he wondered for whose benefit she was asking it.

‘Lady Denham,’ Lord Babington greeted the old lady, ‘I wondered whether I could take Miss Denham out for a walk to take the air?’

‘Ah.’

The Lady let nothing on as she demanded the servants to bring tea upstairs.

‘Do sit down, Lord Babington. Esther, you too. We need to have a discussion.’

Only now did Esther rise from her position, eyes downcast until she reached the table. As she sat down she decided to give him a tight humorous smile. He had not expected their interactions to change radically after that one night, so he only smiled back warmly as he took his seat.

‘Lady Denham, Miss Denham, how do you do?’

‘We’re both healthy and well, which is more than can be said about my investments’, Lady Denham answered sourly, correctly guessing that Lord Babington had been made aware of Sanditon’s latest tragedy due to his connection with the middle brother.

‘Ah yes, a most regrettable tragedy. I was sorry to hear of it.’

‘Tragedy? Tragedy implicates there’s nothing that could have been done about it. It was recklessness, foolishness and negligence. I have half a mind to send my lawyers his way and make him sit out some time so he can think on how he squandered away all that money while I look for a new and reliable project manager.’

‘I understand the situation is dire Lady Denham, but I beg you to refrain from going down that road. Do think about his wife and children.’

‘What about them? I’m sure I’ll be doing them a favour. That way they’ll be rid of that money-burning oaf, Mrs. Parker always seemed a good deal more sensible and smart than her husband, left alone she will no doubt do a better job of managing the family finances. Oh do promise me, although my niece has shown to make stupid decisions in the past, to listen to her. I hate to see good women wasted on stupid men who ignore them. There is a reason why the lady holds the keys to the house.’

Esther rolled her eyes but quietly poured them all the tea which had just been brought in. Her aunt hadn’t changed a bit, though her frustration conflicted by her touching plea to respect Esther’s opinion.

Lord Babington’s eyes held Esther’s as he replied without hesitation.

‘Lady Denham, I have not known Esther to make stupid decisions but I do know her to be quick-witted and intelligent and I trust her judgement completely. I want to have her advice in everything that concerns us, my estate and my private affairs, and even give her the final word. Though I leave the choice up to her how much she wishes to be involved in the decision making process of everything. However, Mrs. Parker has not had the fortune to be privy to all of her husband’s affairs and she has only now begun to grasp just what her husband had kept from her. Make no mistake, Lady Denham, they are suffering and their lives as they know it are at risk. Punish them not for the crimes of the father, as although Mr. Parker has made grave mistakes, they do need him right now.’

Full reigns. He was effectively offering her full reigns. Despite that she would not be able to buy property, make contracts or be a business partner, she would be allowed to act like one. She could not speak, could not even smile. She didn’t know how to communicate with him in another way than she was used too. She’d never been thankful or kind to him before.

‘Hmph, I’ll take your advice. For now. Mind, if he does not come up with a plan ensuring me he’ll have those buildings re-erected without a penny from me, I’ll break with him. No need to throw my money into a gaping pit of fire. Especially since I’m looking towards spending at least a chunk of it on my niece in the future.’

‘Rest assured they are working on a plan as we speak, and have been working on it ever since that evening.’

‘As they should’, the lady responded with all airs and dignity that were habitual of her. She threw a look at her niece then, who looked to be something between bored and uncertain.

‘Now, as you two are to be married. I believe there are some things we have to discuss.’

Lord Babington nodded, fully expecting the matter to be discussed, though Esther who had yet to accept her new reality and future felt less comfortable.

‘I take it you don’t have a lawyer on hand and I have no doubt if you are a sensible man you’ll want your lawyers to meet up with mine to discuss the finer details of the marriage articles, but I wish to know your thoughts on some things now. Esther, sit down, you need to hear this. You are the one whose legal existence shall soon be suspended and absorbed in his. You’re the one who will lose freedom and all of your possessions, this is in your importance not his, not that I want to accuse you of mistreating my niece in the future but one can never be too prudent regarding the protection of individuals in marriage.’

‘No, I understand perfectly, Lady Denham’, Lord Babington nodded.

‘Rest assured that with the money left to Esther by her parents and the money _I_ will give her, her pin-money and dowry will be well taken care of, though that will be mostly due to me and not her parents.’

Esther took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Though it was a great comfort her aunt would make sure she would not enter this marriage as a cheap shame, she did regret the woman took the opportunity to embarrass Esther by commenting on her parents once more. It was a mortifying experience.

Her fingers dug into the fine porcelain of her teacup as she struggled to get her breathing under control. Now was not the right time to spite her aunt.

A slight pressure against her soft indoor shoes shocked her out of her bubble. The pressure remained. She looked up, and saw Lord Babington giving her a comforting smile. It soothed her, though it riled her as well. A large part of her still felt injured and betrayed by the previous person she’d looked towards for comfort, and her decades old habit of not letting anyone but her nearest kin comfort her and years of rebuking suitors made her exceedingly recalcitrant of accepting comfort from others, especially suitors. She still felt the need to assert her independence, so she merely stopped grinding her teeth and looked away towards her aunt.

‘So, when do you wish the marriage to take place?’

‘I hadn’t really thought of it yet.’

Lady Denham then looked at her niece, who shrugged and looked away.

‘I don’t care about a date’, she replied nonchalantly with the aloof attitude that was habitual of her although the thought of marrying in a matter of weeks made her uneasy.

‘We’re both wealthy enough to get a license, and it has a certain status. Would you want that?’ Lady Denham then asked Lord Babington.

‘No’, Esther shot before he could answer. The two then looked at her. She raised her eyebrows innocently, before setting down her teacup. She wished she could ask for a liquor to be added to her tea, since she did not feel comfortable thinking about – or alluding to – the events of the midsummer ball, yet she felt she could not avoid it.

‘I believe that the prestige a license would give, would be strongly discredited by the gossip it would encourage here in Sanditon. I feel it is better to have the banns be called and wait at least a month. Preferably more.’

‘Well, you can’t wait longer than ninety days and to have an engagement without having the banns announced immediately isn’t to my liking’, Lady Denham decided. However, both understood the young lady. Sir Denham’s speech had encouraged the spread of quite strong and mean-spirited gossipy tales. By waiting as long as possible, they would prove they were in no rush to marry, hence it would disprove her sudden engagement or marriage were because of clandestine coupling.

‘We can wait the ninety days, that is fine to me. We can even postpone the reading of the banns. There’s no rush. Although I will be in London during the season. I would not object a winter wedding, but after that the next opportunity will be June next year, unless we marry in London?’

Lady Denham, accepting her opinion was overruled this time, also awaited Esther’s response.

Esther had not expected she would have a say in the date to begin with, and had only assumed she could push through her conviction that a date after the two weeks during which the banns were read would be preferable. She took into consideration the upsides and downsides of a summer, autumn and winter wedding, and the possibility of a wedding only next year. A small part of her felt overwhelming relief when imagining the wedding to only happen the following year. However, another side of her, loathed to wait that long. Here she had a good and faithful fiancé, whose devotion she wished to reward. Waiting a year would almost be the same as admitting she was an unwilling bride, or was indeed mourning the loss of her brother. She didn’t want anyone to think she was too in love with Edward to consider another suitor, she merely wished to disprove the vile tongues insinuating she had done improper things with another man.

The ideal would be to wait between two and three months, to prove she was truly still a virgin. But that would push the wedding back to the end of September or even early October. September could still be warm, but rainy as well, and it ruled out many honeymoon possibilities, and she secretly did hope her husband would grant her one. She wanted to erase all Edward’s empty promises of Italy and replace them with fulfilled promises and pleasant memories with someone who did care enough about her to be honest and faithful to her.

It was the end of June now. If the banns were read that Sunday, the first weekend of July, and were read until the third weekend of July, they would have to be married by the middle of October. If they wanted a later wedding they would have to postpone the reading of the banns. Esther had officially switched houses June 18th, so if she married by the end of August, over two and a half months would have passed since she last slept under one roof with Edward. That would prove even the most ill-intended gossip that unless she had slept with Edward the day of her departure that she was not afraid of showing a sign of pregnancy. However, the end of August meant that if a honeymoon had to take place, it would be during the colder months. Perhaps marrying two months from the day she left Denham Place would be fine too. It would prove that she was not afraid to wait to marry and it would still give them a nice summer wedding. It would give them time to make up the legal arrangements, plan the wedding, compose her trousseau and prepare her move, all while still exchanging the name she shared with her backstabbing brother and leaving Lady Denham’s house before the summer was over. That would be satisfactory.

‘I suppose they may be read now. Then the marriage can take place mid-August?’

Lord Babington smiled, and Lady Denham looked pleased, so she herself allowed a smug grin to appear on her face as all parties and society would be satisfied with the arrangement.

‘I shall make a call so the banns shall be read here in Sanditon, where will you have your banns read Lord Babington? In your hometown or in London?’

Esther, in that instant, realized she didn’t even know where Babington was from. He had no distinguishable accent at all.

‘Where should I have the banns be read? I know St. George’s is a popular church to marry in, that might be preferable to a church here or in my local parish?’

She had only just decided when to marry and now she once again found two pairs of eyes on her. The thought of a wedding in the centre of London, in an unfamiliar environment where as she’d leave the church another couple would be waiting to get married, and the walk to his residence would be seen by so many, made her quite nervous. On the other hand, a man of his standing did deserve a wedding in a prestigious church admired by the _ton_.

‘What do you wish for yourself? A wedding is as meaningful to society as it is to two people’, Esther bounced back.

He huffed a laugh. ‘I don’t care for that, to me it is very much an affair of two people. It is not like all of society can or is supposed to attend, and everyone knows me. I do not need to prove my status by marrying in a certain artful arrangement of bricks which earned its status merely by being located somewhere.’

‘I do not feel particularly inclined to marry in London. So you may have them read wherever you like, do not decide on my account.’

‘I’ll have them read where my family can hear them, in my parish of –cester’, he decided.

Lady Denham was obviously not as happy to surpass a license and a fancy London wedding to show off how well her niece had married, but decided that this week at least she would still go easy on the girl.

‘Fine, we can settle where we’ll have the wedding and the matter of the newspaper announcement later on. Just tell Esther how many invites you’ll need so she can start writing them, and we’ll make up our part of the guest list. But one last point for now concerns the two of you. I know you two have gone out unsupervised at least twice. Once during the cricket match and one carriage ride I authorized. However, that last one was in public while I approved of your suit. However, I do not wish a single piece of gossip to spring into existence anymore. Henceforth all your outings will be supervised by a chaperone. Since I am not yet in enough health to follow, I shall have a servant keep an eye out today. While at home I might shut an eye and give you some time alone in a room but that will be it. If any further private thoughts need to be shared, they can be put in letters, and any private contact can wait until after the wedding has taken place. Am I clear?’

‘Aunt, really?’

This went without saying, though Esther knew her aunt had good reason to say it out loud. She had allowed Babington to write to her, while only married or engaged couples were allowed to do so, and she had also been allowed out alone with him which could also be considered as a clear sign of an engagement. They had done almost everything an engaged couple was allowed to, before even being it. It surprised her to think of it, but once she had started allowing Babington’s attentions to annoy Edward and amuse herself, she had become an engaged lady in the eyes of society. Even as Edward ever so slowly fell out of her graces and heart, and she started feeling more conflicted about how to feel about Babington, she had not appeared to change affection throughout late spring and early summer in the eyes of the public.

She had been so absorbed in her own world she had never noticed before, but in the eyes of society, she had never been courted – or allowed courting – by anyone but Lord Babington. The only time anyone could have thought otherwise was at the ball, and then Edward had been carried out by Lord Babington himself! And after that, her engagement had become known immediately. Perhaps she was not as damned in the eyes of society as she had believed. Yet she would not underestimate the effects of the allegations.

‘I am being liberal.’

‘It merely went without saying. It is evident it cannot be otherwise. But if you want to hear me agree, I shall promise not to allow Lord Babington any improper liberties’, she decided while giving him an overly polite smile.

‘ _I_ would not dare take them’, he laughed in return. She felt her cheeks burning at the memory of how she had grasped his cheeks to kiss him at the ball. Her mind had been so busy she hadn’t taken the time to think of it.

‘Well then, off you may go. Harry- Henry, whatever it is, once they leave this room you shall follow them and not let them out of your sight until they return. Make sure they don’t do anything improper in _public_.’

Esther bit her lip. Her aunt refused to meet her eye, but there was no denying just what they were allowed to do as long as there were no onlookers. Her heart leapt. She had barely accepted that this was her life now, and already she was encouraged so much, and with such ease. She could barely believe just how free she was, after having spent years being bossed around about what to do, being scolded for her behaviour and feeling shame at pushing propriety’s limits around Edward. She was so free to love Lord Babington. She almost wished for more rules, perhaps it would give her more time and space to get used to it. She barely knew how to use the liberty she was given, as she didn’t even know how she wanted to use that liberty regarding him.

The young pair finished their cups of tea, and were off, trailed by a servant at a respectable distance.

He was silent, but the silence did not appear to bother him as much as it did her. Yet, it was not in her habit to start a conversation, she was not used to making an effort for anyone, and feared diverging from her usual pattern of habits would be noted, especially by him. However, she had sworn herself she would at least make an effort to be pleasant.

‘You said you wished the banns to be read where your family lives. May I assume that it is your family’s hometown?’

‘Yes. It has been for many generations.’

‘And just how much of your family lives there?’

She could see the corners of his mouth lifting, but he didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable by looking at her. It was the first time she invited him to talk about himself.

‘Only my immediate family. My sister, although she is still in school abroad, and my mother. I have a cousin too, who lives nearby with her own family.’

A small wave of relief hit Esther now that she knew she would not become the sole lady of an estate, nor a lady in an estate which still held a large family. It did surprise her that he had only talked of women. Was his family prone to having girls? Her mother and father had only ever had as much as one daughter, and before she and her new husband could try for a child they had already died. Would that mean Esther would have girls as well? But then what would happen to the family estate and family name?

Just as soon as she imagined herself to be a mother, which was as frightening as it was pleasant now that it was a real prospect, any happy feelings were overshadowed by the burden of producing someone to carry on the name. Was his home entailed? Would their children be able to inherit if they were girls? She pushed those questions aside. She did not want him to know she thought of them, especially since those questions would make him aware of just how much thought she was putting into their marriage, and it would without a doubt lead him to think about the making of children.

‘No father or brothers?’ She knew his omission of a father probably meant he was dead, but she was too late to correct her words.

‘My parents were a love match even though they had been presented to each other by their families with a clear intention, but there was a considerable age gap. He died some time ago, while she is still quite young. Which is also the reason why there’s only two of us at home. He did live a long and healthy life though. If I am anything like him and the other men in my family, I’m afraid you won’t get rid of me easily’, he laughed.

‘Oh, what a pity. Just recently my aunt said I could not have done better if you were old of age and in poor health.’

He clapped his hands in amusement, glad to see her return to her usual sharp tongue and easy conversation. He hoped it indicated that despite everything, she was still doing alright.

‘Did she now?’

‘You know my aunt. She always made the most advantageous of matches with the most fortunate men in the most unfortunate health. Yet again, I fail to achieve her level of brilliance. I am afraid I shall just have to put up with you.’

How easy it was to converse with him compared to how difficult it was to make up her mind about him in private. Perhaps, if she just stopped overthinking and let herself behave as her instincts told her to, she would be fine without feeling so awful. After all, they were engaged, she was free to treat him and feel about him as she liked. And she did not have to consider Edward or society in the least. The only thing she could feel bad about, was how she had treated him in the past. And the only thing she had to mind, was how he thought of her.

‘A heavy burden that is.’

‘Then lose a few pounds.’

Babington laughed, but over her laughter her mind scolded her. Until now she had told him it was a chore to put up with him and had both insinuated she would not support him and could be interpreted as having critiqued his weight.

‘So, you have a sister?’

He easily accepted the turn of the conversation.

‘Yes, Anne. She’s seventeen.’

‘That’s quite an age discrepancy as well, is it not?’

‘It is. Fourteen years. But the distance in age has not made us less fond of each other.’

‘I suppose the larger the gap, the easier it is to form a connection. Especially when of the opposing sex.’

‘Whatever do you mean, Miss Denham?’

‘If two sisters are close in age, they are raised to be competitors, vying for husbands in the same pond while being out at the same time, both having to outdo the other in skills and loveliness. That is hardly a set-up in which sisterly affection is encouraged. And if the two are male, well, the older will always have to carry a burden without freedom while the other will always see that burden as a gift he was snubbed off, and feels he has no choice but to choose a profession. He can shame the family by not making anything of himself, while his good behaviour will never earn him anything in the same family. And both shall always consider what would have happened, had one been born just a bit earlier or later. No, let there be a difference, then there can never be spite and rivalry.’

‘A nice theory, which I have the misfortune of having seen proven many times. However, I must say my brother and I got along splendidly. Though I must admit there was enough money and property in our family for the three of us to spend our lives as we pleased.’

‘But you said you only had a sister.’

‘I do. In that gap between us, a brother was born. He was quite the reckless youth, not unlike myself, we both studied and partied together in London, but then he decided to join the navy, and I joined parliament. Unfortunately, he got some kind of exotic fever and died a couple of years ago.’

‘Oh, I am sorry.’

‘Ah, I have ruined the conversation I am afraid. You did not know, Miss Denham.’

Lord Babington now sought a new topic for their conversation, looking around them to find something else to talk about. Unfortunately, his mind got distracted when he spotted the burnt roofs of the set of apartments which were destroyed by the fire. It brought his mind back to Sidney, and he was lost to his thoughts once again. And from Sidney, his mind wandered to Miss Heywood. Poor Miss Heywood, did she know how close she’d been to receiving a proposal? The poor girl. Sidney could not marry and consider building a home with her now that the future of his brother was so uncertain.

‘I do think my aunt was right when she called Mr. Parker all those names. But then I suppose everyone around him has allowed him too much liberties. Someone should have checked whether he had ensured the buildings. I would not allow a single person to take care of everything without having someone keeping him in check. Especially when his cheapness already almost killed one of the workers, actually, the very same worker who did end up getting killed.’

‘They should. And if he can stay on, I think someone will definitely be appointed to that task.’

Esther did not pick up on the conditional clause, and he did not wish to worry her or her aunt even more by disclosing the financial mess. And talking about money matters would not bring the conversation to where he wished to guide it either.

But discussing the burned building with her did give him one idea.

‘Miss Denham, might I ask something of you?’

Her face clouded over, as she gave a guarded nod.

‘The events of that night have hit the Parker family and all those around them quite hard. I know you’re not one for social calls without reason, but you are one of the few ladies around Miss Heywood’s age, and I do believe she could use some support and somebody to talk to.’

And perhaps, Esther could use a companion as well, but this he did not add.

‘Is she not already friends with that heiress?’ Esther asked, however she did consider it in honesty. She had never even tried to befriend someone in Sanditon. Miss Heywood had not appeared to be bad or boring during their short acquaintance, and she had been disappointed when Miss Heywood stopped talking to her after she’d tried to talk about Edward and Clara with her. Perhaps she could try, after all, she had also been there for her when Edward had made a public mockery of her. It was not too late to try and strike up a friendship, and repay the kindness she had bestowed upon her.

‘She is, I believe.’

‘I shall visit her, if it gives you peace. She has put such an effort in helping advance Sanditon, and she has to live in a house that is now in such turmoil, she must be distraught as well.’

‘Thank you.’

It was surprisingly easy to convince her, but he was glad of it, since he would not have been able to tell her just why he thought she needed the support of another woman with a little bit more maturity and experience in the field of love.

They ended up in the park. The trees proudly showcased their heavy branches with thick luscious brightly coloured leaves, successfully shielding the pathways from the sun which happily reflected on the pond. Esther had not taken her umbrella with her this time though. Up close, he could spot a couple of freckles on her pale face. It was not the first time she forwent that umbrella. It looked cute, though that was not a way in which he would ever dare to describe the force of nature that was Esther Denham.

‘I’ve noticed you have a love for blue, red and purple clothes in your wardrobe.’

Esther raised an eyebrow.

‘I do.’

‘I wondered if it was merely because those colours compliment your hair and complexion, or because you liked them as well.’

Esther swallowed in an attempt to move the invisible ball that sat propped in her throat. She had worn a lot of black and purple lately when she felt bad about Edward and life in general. Her breathing quickened. She knew, evidently, he had paid attention to her. He had not hidden his admiration, and she doubted her looks had played no part in his attraction to her. But she had not known how much attention he’d given to her. After begging her brother for just the tiniest pieces of attention, she could barely believe someone with so little reason to care for her could her so much attention without her having to do anything for it.

‘I am quite fond of red and blue.’

‘Is any of them your favourite perchance?’

She assumed it was an innocent enough question to ask of one’s fiancée.

She wore red the most. It was bold, and an unpopular choice of colour for a woman, and she did love spitting on what was expected of women. It had also been Edward’s favourite colour, and she would lie if she said she did not start wearing it more as she started gaining feelings for Edward and stopped making an effort to appear as was expected of a lady. She didn’t know how to feel about red anymore. But she knew it had never been her favourite.

‘Blue.’

‘As we are now officially engaged, and thus allowed to exchange gifts, I wish to give you this, Miss Denham, as a token of my affection and a signal of our engagement. Of course, you may do with it as you please’, Lord Babington explained as he procured a small box for her.

The prop in her throat plummeted and fell heavy in her stomach.

She took the box with uncertain hands. She could very well guess its contents.

And, upon opening, her guess was confirmed.

It was a gorgeous golden ring, with a rose cut sapphire in the middle, surrounded by a ring of pearls. The sides looked like fine flower stems with fines curling towards the large circle of pearls.

‘Oh. I didn’t expect –‘

‘At least I manage to catch you by surprise whenever I broach the topic of engagements,’ he laughed as he gently placed the ring on her finger, while giving her enough time to refuse or draw back her hand.

The ring almost reached the knuckle of her ring finger, but the size was a perfect fit.

‘I – Yes. Thank you.’

Thanks did not come near what she felt. It had already been a miracle he’d seen anything in her in the first place. The unease in her stomach grew, and she could not hold keep it in any more.

‘Lord Babington, I only just agreed to marry you. I haven’t done anything to earn this, on the contrary, I’ve only made myself less desirable. Why do you insist on treating me with such kindness while…’

_While you are treated with so little civility._

_While I don’t love you._

_While you should hate me or at least feel ashamed for being engaged to someone with such a questionable reputation._

But she couldn’t finish. She couldn’t because she didn’t even know how she felt about him anymore, nor did she wish to point out how she was unsuitable, it was already made obvious during the conversation with her aunt.

‘Love is no transaction, Esther. You don’t need to give or prove anything to earn someone’s love. And I wish you to have it, as long as you wish to have it.’

He spoke so freely of love and his feelings for her that she couldn’t help but nervously giggle as she looked at the ring. How could someone give love so freely, and expect nothing in return but to be together with her? How could one not start to feel resentment for all the love and energy and money put into someone else without having any of it returned? Love was always a transaction. She dressed up and got attention from suitors. She mocked the people of Sanditon and got approving laughter of her brother. She played the piano or played cards and she got approval of her aunt. Had she been wrong? All her life she had been running after her mother and Edward to get attention and affection. She did not feel comfortable receiving it from Babington yet, but perhaps she could learn to.

Was it even possible to endure months and years of love while still being indifferent to the person bestowing it? She couldn’t even imagine that. Perhaps it would not be difficult to fall in love with him, if only she allowed herself some time to get used to the idea. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Edward he was tolerably handsome, and his character was far from awful. It was not hard to like him, so perhaps she could love him too.

The discomfort dissipated slightly, and now she desperately wished to dispel the awkwardness she’d brought into the conversation with her words.

‘Well, it is pretty. But I do insist for now that we remain at least a bit equal. I require you to ask for something in return’, she decided with a decidedly coquettish air as she started walking to give him some time.

Lord Babington followed her with a smile. She had accepted the gift, and it was placed neatly on her ring finger as she walked. But he could understand that since it was clear she did not have the same feelings for him as he had for her, that she did not wish to feel like she owed him. She was the type of woman who liked being independent.

‘I have decided’, he announced as he walked up to her. She looked at him as he offered her his arm to get closer to her.

She placed her ringed hand on top of his bright blue coat. A perfect shade match, she smiled to herself.

‘I wish for a favour.’

She did not object, and waited for him to continue.

‘I wish to call you by your name, and I would like it if you called me by mine.’

‘Upon my word, how forward you are’, she smirked but once again did not object.

‘I’ll allow you to use mine. Though I am afraid I cannot comply, since I do not know yours, _my_ lord.’

‘Ah yes. Right. I had forgotten about that. It’s John.’

‘Very well’, Esther agreed as they continued their walk.

‘But what would you have done had I said red or purple, _John_?’ she questioned while trying out the sound of his name on her tongue.

‘Now I do enjoy indulging you, but I believe even a man like me must keep some secrets. I would not want you to believe I lack any depth or mystery. I won’t tell you.’

Ah, she felt that dig at her old comment when she had claimed he lacked depth.

‘Fair enough. I’ll allow you a few.’

‘A few, and what with the rest?’

‘I doubt you’ll ever manage to keep many, but if you try, I have no doubt I shall uncover them soon.’

‘Will you abuse your key of the house to nose around in my office, my lady?’

‘I would hardly call that abuse of the key. I could do that, yes. But I don’t need a key. I’m pretty certain that if I wish to uncover something, I’ll be able to convince you to reveal it.’

‘Do you now?’ he cried in amusement.

‘I do.’

‘You are very confident.’

‘Do you believe me to be incapable of tempting you?’

‘I believe you would be far too efficient. I would be persuaded to reveal all in a matter of minutes. But you were right about me not having many secrets. I keep secrets of friends because their struggles are not meant to be shared with society, but I see no good reason for having secrets myself. I’m a strong believer of transparency, I don’t believe secrets will help me in any way. Right now I cannot think of a single thing I would ever desire to keep from my wife.’

‘Ah, at least someone who recognizes my talents.’

‘I hope to become acquainted with even more of them, as I have no doubt you have a wide array of them.’

‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

‘I’m planning on doing just that, my dearest Esther.’

How different he was from Edward, who always had secrets and schemes. They differed like night and day in every way, and those differences only became more apparent the more she learnt about him.

And right now, she could not regret exchanging night for day, as she quite enjoyed the warmth and cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) It has recently dawned on me how inappropriate Esther's courtship was in this series. An unmarried man and woman who aren't related can't write to each other, if they do they are assumed to be engaged as is the case with Marianne and Willoughby in Sense & Sensibility. Secondly, and Sanditon does this all the time for every couple, a man and woman would never meet in private without a chaperone, especially not when they're not engaged. Someone needs to keep an eye out nothing improper happens, and without having someone that can testify the pair have done nothing, it could be assumed that they did do something inappropriate. Esther has been alone with Lord Babington on three seperate occasions; the proposal, the refusal of the proposal and the carriage ride. The writing of letters is entirely on Esther, but I do believe her aunt deliberately shut an eye to their private moments so rumours would be created about them, giving Babington even more reason to ask for her hand. In the light of Edward, it also offers some protection "she can't be in love with her brother, or have done something with her brother, she's been in a courtship with someone else for weeks".
> 
> 2) The banns: If the persons marrying came from separate parishes, the curate of one parish could not solemnize the wedding without a certificate from the other curate stating the Banns had been “thrice called” and no objections had been made .Once the three Banns were called, with no objections, the couple then had ninety days to finalize the ceremony. If one person has two residences, they may choose where to have them read. St. Georges was indeed a very popular church, at one time having as much as thousand weddings a year. With a common license a couple could be wedded as soon as they wished as long as they payed a certain sum. With a special license, which cost a lot, a couple could marry whenever they liked and at any point of the day. This had a certain prestige and showed wealth, and could be used by a couple to marry at a place of their preference and a time of their preference in the evening or afternoon, for example, instead of in the morning.
> 
> 3) The official newspaper announcement. This was for the social aspects rather than an actual law, but if one was of the upper classes it was a crucial step. In Pride & Prejudice Mrs. Bennet mourns how small the newspaper announcement for Lydia was, for example. 
> 
> 4) It has been suggested by other watchers as well, so I am not the first to pick up on this, that Esther can be seen wearing colours linked to mourning during many episodes. Since her parents have died quite some time ago and she does not wear mourning colours regularly enough to be considered to be ‘in mourning’ for an actual family member. Black, most notably, is a colour of mourning, and an unusual choice for a young lady, especially during a period of time in which pastel and white were highly favoured. She even wears black on a ball, it makes her stand out and is perhaps even intended to push suitors away. We know by Edward’s “How many suitors have failed” comment that she hasn’t been kind or welcoming to male attention before. And purple is one of the softer mourning colours.  
> We also see Edward wearing black and red quite a lot. Now we all know the connotations of red and black: colours of seduction, darkness, temptation yada yada. But what I also find interesting is how Esther transitions from black and red, to first integrating a dark purple, and then moving on to lighter purples, and eventually ending up with a grey-lavender dress, almost as if the colours which had been characteristic of Edward and Esther start to drain as she moves away from Edward and towards Babington. Now when seen as a deliberate clothing choice we can interpret this as her mourning Edward, having self-pity or even deliberately breaking away with Edward.


	3. The Banns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9th of April: fixed some minor mistakes

I might've been a nightmare  
To anyone who might care  
Thought I could fly  
So I stepped off the Golden, mm  
Nobody cried  
Nobody even noticed  
I saw them standing right there  
Kinda thought they might care

  
I had a dream  
I got everything I wanted  
But when I wake up, I see  
You with me  
  
And you say, "As long as I'm here  
No one can hurt you  
Don't wanna lie here  
But you can learn to  
If I could change  
The way that you see yourself  
You wouldn't wonder why you hear  
They don't deserve you

**_Everything I wanted_ , Billie Eilish**

As the week reached its end, the raging storm inside Esther’s mind quieted down. The new experiences and feelings finally whirled downwards now that the sea of her mind was at peace, and with it the sediment which clouded her judgement sank towards the bottom as well.

Freed of the sense of loyalty she’d harboured for her brother and the tender feelings which had encouraged it, his flaws and crimes had become crystal clear.

Though she was loathe to admit her own weakness as Denhams were proud creatures, she had to admit that she had been blind to Edward’s manipulation of her. He had ensured she was isolated, and believed only him, and he convinced her of the righteousness of all his acts and she had always just swallowed the explanation. And when she hesitated to agree with his opinions or his course of actions, he mocked her or scolded her. He even tried to tell her what she was thinking. He was a cheater, a liar, a ruthless man without scruples, a manipulator, spiteful and greedy. None of his charms could ever weigh up against his vices.

It was an amazing revelation which made her re-evaluate everything. Because suddenly, she didn’t know what she had decided for herself and what had been due to Edward’s influence.

Esther had always kept everyone at bay because Edward had told her everybody wanted something from everyone. Shy in nature, she didn’t mind not having any confidantes, ninety percent of the people she knew appeared to be poor company anyways. She’d borne everyone’s presence only when the occasion required her to converse with them. She was especially careful around men, partially because she didn’t trust others and partially because she wanted to prove her dedication to Edward. She never wanted to be too polite to men, the ruder she was, the sooner they steered clear from her. The technique always worked. Except on Lord Babington.

The first night, she had been annoyed by his attention even though she had not been able to give a single reason why she was annoyed. When his first letter came, she was shocked. It was the most persistent a man had been. But she wasn’t interested, so there was no use in replying. Then came the next letter. It astounded her. She had been taught men didn’t care for her, and if they did it was only for her face or name. She was taught men wouldn’t make an effort for her, even Edward didn’t make an effort for her.

_“It’s just the idea that you could ever favour him that I find so deliciously… preposterous.”_

_“Why do you think it won’t come to anything?”_

She should have realized then that to Edward she was just a toy he possessed but wasn’t interested in until someone else wanted it. She now knew that she had greedily gulped down the few scraps of attention he threw at her like a starving dog, while unaware that a full steak would willingly be given to her if only she looked a bit further.

She had just contented herself with what she got, telling herself it was all she could ever get, because it was all she was worth. Edward had encouraged her insecurity, calling her stupid, naïve, cruel and mean. And she honestly believed she was, and that it made her undeserving and unfit to be loved by anyone but him. She now realized how stupid that was. Even if she wouldn’t have been able to find someone willing to marry her because of her attitude and personality, her aunt would have found someone with enough money so she’d be comfortable, and probably a high enough age so she wouldn’t have to suffer for too long.

‘You look beautiful ma’am,' the chamber maid decided as she finished her hair. Esther nodded and rose from her chair. She was left alone, dressed in a nice light purple gown for the dinner party.

She took up her spot near the window. It was perfect to see everyone arriving, though she still had some time before they would. Lord Babington would return to them that night. They’d have a dinner with the Parkers, right before Sidney and Babington left, one off to London for a business deal and the other off to his hometown so the banns would be read there this Sunday.

So that was Edward, who had exposed himself for what he truly was in front of everyone. A true wolf in sheep clothes, who _had_ indeed abused her natural loyalty and love.

_“But I only hope this means you are free at last of his pernicious influence.”_

She did feel free. She didn’t feel like she had to act a certain part to please Edward. He didn’t tell her what to do, and he wouldn’t mock her behaviour when it didn’t comply with his wishes, and he wouldn’t command her to turn down Babington anymore.

But was she free of his influence? She felt ashamed of her relationship with him. The anxiety which grew inside her with every passing second as she anticipated the arrival of those who had heard Edward’s exclamations lay heavy on her shoulders, even when her rational mind told her they had not spurned her then and were unlikely to spurn her now. She was insecure still, and uncertain of her sense of judgement. She could still _hear_ him, even now she didn’t wish to listen to him.

If only she could get him out. She didn’t want to carry him with her anymore. Everything that reminded her of him made her angry and sad and dirty at once. She needed to be rid of him. She wanted to wash his influence off of herself with the strongest soap, and scrub until all the years of memories came off too.

Across the house, she could see pink magnolia leaves rolling across the sidewalk. She could even hear the seagulls from behind the glass. She’d never particularly liked the noisy beasts, but now she wondered… would she hear them again?

Babington was a lord, he had an ancestral home and a town house, neither of which were located near the sea. Perhaps these were her last few weeks of hearing seagulls, after that she would undoubtedly move.

Would she remain in his ancestral home, or his town house? And would he take her with him when he travelled between the two? She was excluded from any real society, so far away from London, but she still heard stories, of wives waiting at home while their men whored around in London. Would she become one of those? She’d heard enough stories from her brother to know men’s attention was fickle at best. He was loyal now, or so she guessed, but Lord Babington had confessed that part of what drew him to her was the fact that he couldn’t easily get her. Would he grow bored of her now that he had her?

A useless question really. What could she do if he grew bored of her? Leave?

He said he wouldn’t give up on her though. Though Lord knows why. She’d spent years begging for it and couldn’t even get if from someone who was just as awful as her, she didn’t know how someone way above her league would suddenly think her worthy of it. 

The Parker household arrived by foot: Mr. Parker, Mrs. Parker and Miss Heywood. She took it the youngest brother and the sister would be watching over the children.

Next came a carriage, with in it the heiress and the middle Parker, and then at last Lord Babington.

It was time to go downstairs.

She could hear everyone’s voices the second she opened the door of her bedroom, and felt the overwhelming urge to close it again. And so she did.

She took a deep calming breath.

‘Why?’  
It was not that she wasn’t prepared for it. It was not that anyone would confront her. Even if they disliked her, everyone present was too reliant upon Lady Denham to speak poorly of her niece. No, that was not the reason.

It was not that she wasn’t hungry. She was. She didn’t want to go downstairs, but she couldn’t pinpoint the entire reason. Babington was part of it, but his behaviour was not the reason. The reason, regrettably, appeared to be entirely herself.

She did not want to go downstairs because she didn’t want to meet anyone. She was afraid. She was tired and didn’t want to muster the effort to pretend to be _fine_ and _happy_ and _calm_ , but she couldn’t trust anyone with the real her. And if something happened, Edward, who had always been her security blanket, wouldn’t be there. The stakes were higher because of it. It did matter that she was liked, or she would have no one to talk to. The only people who knew the real her were Edward and she herself, and well, neither of them really liked her. She rather be hated for something she wasn’t, than reveal herself and be hated for who she actually was, that hurt too much, and she was too vain to allow people to think anything bad of the real her.

Well, she would just have to do it.

‘Ah, Miss Denham, there you are!’ cried Tom Parker. She was halfway through rolling her eyes when she bit her tongue and gave a curt nod. She acknowledged the other Parker, and then up came he.

‘Lord Babington.’

She offered her hand. He smiled at her, the same happy carefree smile as always. How was it even possible for someone to be so carefree? He took his time, taking her hand between two of his.

‘Miss Denham, you look radiant this evening’, he greeted her before pressing his lips against her hand just a second too long to be proper. Only, it was proper, because he was engaged to her.

‘I always look uncommonly well or stunning or radiant whenever you see me’, she noted with a wry smile.

‘You are onto something. Perhaps, you are just beautiful every day.’

It was a cheesy line, but it was said so earnestly that she could not help smile.

‘No need to butter me up like a scone, I already agreed to marry you.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. If I had to draw an analogy with an inanimate object, I’d say before you were like a beautiful display cabinet I saw in a furniture shop. I could admire you, but now I can have you. But to keep you, I need to take good care of you and keep you shining instead of neglecting you and letting you collect dust, and perhaps – if that is even possible – make you more beautiful by filling you up with memories and happy feelings. So you see, I do need to take care of you to be able to enjoy you every day.’

It was too touching and too much to process, so she skipped over the middle part when coming up with an answer which didn’t show too much of her feelings.

‘And complimenting my beauty every day is going to keep me nice?’

‘I see what you are trying to do, but I will not allow you to make something bad out of it. No, complimenting your beauty won’t do that. But as a suitor I don’t have access to all the methods I could use to take care of you and keep you happy. Yet. Until then, giving you my attentions in all currently acceptable ways shall have to do. And the more I get to know you, the more things I’ll be able to compliment you on.’

Her cheeks heated. All methods to take care of her and keep her happy, she wasn’t sure if she was meant to think of the things she did, but she did nonetheless. However, she well understood the last part of his speech. If she remained closed off, he wouldn’t have much to work with. She was fair enough to admit that he had tried to compliment her character , and had always shown approval of her thoughts and humour. But opening up… She’d built so much on this public persona that just the mere thought of dropping it in front of someone and showing them her other sides felt impossible.

‘Come now, the first course won’t be ready for a while yet. Men to their room and women to theirs. Oh come on. There’ll be plenty of time for that when the two of you are married’, Lady Denham sighed with great exasperation and the smallest hint of fondness.

Esther drew her hand back from between his so quickly Babington could feel the sharp edges of her ring cutting into his fingers.

She was dragged into a blue room, all the women fanning out on couches and armchairs as they were handed glasses of wine. Lady Denham started one of her ‘conversations’ with Mrs. Parker, which boiled down to her quizzing Mrs. Parker and Mrs. Parker trying to answer as politely as possible, this left the three young women to their own.

The smiles exchanged were uncomfortable. One was struggling with her frustration at being dragged out of her house into the home of a woman who had treated her cruelly before, one was anxious about her future, and one was ashamed of her past, and all had not parted in a good way. On top of that was the understanding that the two other ladies were very close friends, who would have talked easily if not for Esther’s presence.

Without getting through the awkward phase, you’ll never get to place where you’ll be comfortable with it. It was a general rule, it applied to learning languages, instruments and art, but it applied to acquaintances as well. But Esther had never tried to get through it. She’d never bothered before because she had never felt the need.

But only trusting one person, had left her all alone and isolated when that person fell away, and loneliness was the worst. She didn’t want to be in this position of belonging nowhere anymore. And she had at least one very strong reason to be kind to the two young women who’d been there for her when she was at her lowest, they had offered her kindness out of the good of their hearts, without having gotten anything in return. Well, now it was time, and Lord Babington had asked her, though that was not the main reason.

‘Can I take it you are well?’ Esther decided to ask. If she started the conversation, she would at least have some measure of control.

‘As well as can be’, Miss Lambe huffed. Her response was so in style to Esther’s kind of responses, that she felt instantly amused.

‘Anything in particular that elicits such a statement?’

‘Oh yes. But, I am not meant to say it. Decorum and propriety and all’, Miss Lambe explained with a sour smile. Esther’s breathing calmed. She was talking and Miss Lambe was talking back. She could do this.

‘Ah, but that makes it all the more gratifying to say it’, Esther encouraged her, forever holding that little bit of perversity that sought to spite societal rules.

‘I don’t know, I find that sometimes it is safer to keep some things to oneself’, Miss Heywood chimed in.

‘Only if you’re talking to people wanting to take offence or abuse the information’, Esther decided.

She noticed the eyes of the other women slid to Lady Denham. However, she was quite absorbed in her own conversation.

‘No doubt you started feeling that way because you got verbal lashings for it from the same person I was chastised by.’ Miss Lambe was looking at Miss Heywood, almost as if she was trying to convince her of something. Deciding it was important to not cause a rift between the two before she proceeded, Esther weighed her words.

‘Now, I am saddened to agree with Miss Heywood, there can be really bad consequences. If you do not wish to suffer them, you should respect the rules in society. But I’d rather have that instead of sweet silences and pretty lies.’

‘Sidney Parker’, Miss Lambe blurted immediately.

‘Smile Georgiana, be pleasant Georgiana, listen to me Georgiana, we’re going there tonight Georgiana and it is not up for discussion. He scolds me and bosses me and I’m tired of it. Recently he’s been trying to act nice, but really, it doesn’t take away that he legally possesses me.’

‘That’s how being a female works. When my parents died, I became Edward’s. Had Edward died, I would have a thing a very far removed uncle could decide over. When I marry, I officially become my husband. As we all know, we are too silly and cannot be trusted to govern ourselves. We cannot even be trusted with the possession of our own dresses.’

It still sat badly with her, though she tried to cover it up with humour. She never wanted to be as dependent on a man again as she’d been on Edward, yet she had little choice.

Miss Lambe nodded gravely, but Miss Heywood looked positively bewildered, almost as if she hadn’t even given that any consideration. A lucky home scenario, probably never had a man abuse the authority he had over her, Esther decided.

‘Will I ever stop going from one pair of hands into another? It’s like slavery. With no chance of ever being free. How can I be happy, when I need to live with the knowledge that I can only ever be as free as some man decides I can be. Whatever I do, I do because he allows me to, and whatever I don’t, is because he doesn’t allow me to do so.’

‘Not marrying’, Esther suggested.

Miss Lambe grew uncomfortably quiet. But despite the silence, Esther felt relieved. She was having a regular conversation, even a deep and meaningful one! She was doing just fine and was actually building a bond.

‘It is presented as an undesirable choice,’ Miss Lambe explained, ‘now I wonder if they present it thus and mock spinsters because they are not able to own them.’

‘Most oftenly it is an undesirable choice because women have almost no way of making money, ergo, most spinsters are living poor and unhappy lives.’

‘The cost of freedom’, Miss Lambe murmured, hands wringing. ‘I hate this topic. But how can I avoid it? I can just as much avoid it as I can avoid having some man ruling over me.’

‘Most men have never asked to own the women in their families though, and most cannot really change the law. It seems unfair to hate them for laws they haven’t had any influence on’, Miss Heywood defended.

‘Even men have someone ruling over them, it’s called a government’, Esther smirked, deciding this was the ideal time to allow the conversation to decompress. But she did enjoy Miss Lambe, she appeared to be, not so unlike her after all.

Even Miss Lambe had to laugh.

‘Men can get in the government’, Miss Heywood noted with a small smile.

‘Only wealthy men, watch workers and colonial people trying to get even a single one of their suggestions passed in the form of a law, they’re begging MP’s. How many people are rich? I believe there are less than there are at political rallies pressing for change’, Miss Lambe’s voice rose, but she lowered it when she remembered Lady Denham was present in the room.

‘Well, there are some successful protest movements. And there are those with sympathies for the working classes and former slaves, though they are sparse’, Miss Heywood replied.

‘I see a perfect plan coming to fruition, Miss Lambe clearly is a bit of a radical, but as she is a woman, she cannot attribute much to the discussion. So she should choose a radical husband who agrees with her, and then they can use her money to get into politics.’

‘If only men could be trusted, I would’, Georgiana sighed. ‘But they can cry for revolution, but then they would throw the money away to indulge themselves.’

It was too specific to be a general statement. But once again, she felt this strange sense of kinship. Had not Esther wrongly trusted a greedy man who promised her to spend money on them but then turned selfish? She wished she had anything to comfort her, but it was the exact same problem she was struggling with.

‘We all know men who would abuse the money and power they are given. I just hope, we will all know men who won’t’, said Miss Heywood.

Miss Lambe made a noncommittal noise.

‘My father wasn’t bad’, Esther admitted. And indeed, neither her birth father or her second one had been.

‘Neither was mine’, Miss Lambe muttered. Her eyebrows knitted together. She was obviously struggling to reconcile her hurt and frustration with men, with the memory of her father.

‘Nor mine . And I know at least two others I feel confident about’, Miss Heywood decided.

Esther sure hoped she knew one too. Until now, nothing seemed to contradict it. But how could she be sure, she’d been wrong before.

‘I guess we’ll have to give men the benefit of the doubt, since we’ll never know whether they’ll turn out to be good men like our fathers.’

It was such an innocent statement, but a powerful one. Esther had been agonizing over it for days, wondering if she could trust him in case he turned out to be bad, but what if he wouldn’t? What if he was just as he presented himself?

It sounded too good to be true.

‘The first course will be served shortly’, a servant announced.

The ladies finished their cups and moved to the dining room. The sitting arrangement was mercifully pleasant. She sat across Miss Lambe, and between Lord Babington on her right and Miss Heywood on her left. She’d be able to hear the conversation of the two friends in case she didn’t wish to talk to Lord Babington. And perhaps, if she talked to them, she wouldn’t appear as broken and lonely in the eyes of Babington and the others. Talking to three people wasn’t what an isolated woman brought low in society would do. It was what a normal lady would.

‘At least this will be the last big dinner in a while’, Miss Heywood smiled at her friend, who looked unhappy to be seated between the Parker brothers.

‘That just means a boring forced routine.’

‘Since there won’t be any upcoming activities, I could always join you and make it less boring?’ Miss Heywood offered with an assuring smile.

Miss Lambe smiled back.

This was it. The confirmation both ladies had time on hands and were discussing their next few weeks. It was the opportune moment to ask the question.

As she opened her mouth, dread flooded her nervous system. Esther became acutely aware of Lord Babington next to her, able to hear everything she said. He was talking to the moody Parker but she was well aware he could decide to tune in at any given moment. She tried to swallow the nerves away, but failed. So instead she shoved a couple spoonful’s of soup down her throat, allowing the soup the fight its way past the lump in her throat. But the heat did succeed in softening the lump. She still wasn’t feeling particularly excited to ask, since the two ladies were close friends and she’d only talked to them less than a handful of times, but she really needed the help sooner rather than later.

‘Or you could find something useful to do with your time.’

‘What could we possibly do that’s useful? We’re women.’

In that moment Esther decided Miss Lambe was not so much like her, perhaps she was indeed more like Esther when she was seventeen herself. She didn’t have as much self-pity and contempt for society. She’d accepted it a bit more with age. Miss Lambe was still very much a rebel.

‘Well, they’re not incredibly useful but, the useful activities I was referring to related to, well, my… my wedding.’

That did the trick, the word drew Babington’s attention like a bell. She might as well have said his name. He stiffened next to her, before relaxing. She didn’t look at him but although his conversation with Sidney Parker continued, she knew he was listening.

‘I would need a maid of honour. I need to write wedding invitations and arrange all kinds of things and, traditionally, brides usually have someone help them. Really, it’s nothing special but it’s something else for a change’, she said light-heartedly.

She quickly decided to start eating her soup, to give her hands something to do and her eyes something to focus on. She didn’t want to appear desperate or nervous.

‘I’d like to help. I’m the oldest at home so I’ve never been able to witness a wedding up close’ Miss Heywood gave a tight smile, her eyes briefly fluttering across the table before going back to Esther.

‘Anything to get me from under having to spend time with Mrs. Griffiths’, Miss Lambe smirked.

‘Oh, how flattering’, Esther huffed.

‘What was it you said about people becoming offended?’ Miss Lambe smiled slyly.

‘Fair point’, Esther decided then.

Miss Lambe let out a hard laugh, but stifled it once multiple pairs of eyes focussed on her.

‘What?’ she snapped before aggressively spooning her soup to her mouth.

Just a week ago, she’d never felt so alone, and now, she had a fiancé and not one but two girls willing to spend time with her to help her. Had you asked her before, she would have said nothing good ever happened in Sanditon, and there was not a single person worthy of knowing in it. How wrong she had been. Just a couple of days ago, she’d believed herself to be lost, yet a lost person would not have so willingly been offered help. Perhaps, all was not lost.

As she brought her spoon towards her soup, she could feel an ever so slight bump against her right foot. She quickly dismissed it as someone stretching their legs, but was quickly proven wrong when it stayed there, and pressed a bit more, before it disappeared. Babington.

She ignored it, but felt the need to smile nonetheless. Of course he’d been eavesdropping.

‘So, Lord Babington, have you already decided where the wedding shall take place.’

Esther righted her shoulders, immediately irritated that she’d been overlooked despite that Tom Parker knew her a lot longer than he knew Lord Babington. Men.

‘Not yet, Mr. Parker.’

‘But I’ve heared the banns shall be read this Sunday. Surely, it won’t be long then.’

‘Somewhere in august’, Lord Babington answered politely.

‘Are you thinking about a London wedding?’ Mr. Parker asked with impatience

‘No, we are not.’

We.

‘Of course, it is customary to have a wedding in the parish where one shall live.’

‘Miss Denham and I shall decide what we think is best.’

Esther daren’t look at him, so she focussed on Miss Lambe, who appeared to be quite interested in Lord Babington’s words.

‘You know, I think weddings are quite unfair. Women give up their entire life to become part of the lives of their husbands, they deserve at least a final day to say goodbye to their childhood home. And surely, men, who travel so much more, don’t have the same attachment to their homes as women do’, Tom parker continued.

Esther noticed where he was heading, and felt herself growing defensive and irritated. Throwing back the last remains of her glass of wine, she allowed a servant to fill it again.

‘Wouldn’t that make women excited to travel to their new parish?’ Esther asked.

Tom Parker did look surprised, with a stupid fish faced expression. However, she herself felt uncomfortable in turn, since she didn’t wish to appear too eager to move.

‘Ah, yes. I guess it would, Miss Denham… Well.. Say, Lady Denham, are you curious to see where your niece shall soon live?’

‘It is she who’ll live there, not me. I’m perfectly satisfied with my house. I’m not curious since it won’t matter to me whether it’s a pretty or an ugly house. Now no offense Lord Babington, you lords don’t choose your houses so I am not critiquing your taste. One ancestor’s poor taste can ruin it for the future owners. I’ll never understand what motivated my husband’s ancestors to lay that ugly mosaic in my home. But I’ll finally have it covered up after all those years.’

‘So, you’d be more inclined to have it in Sanditon?’

Parker perked up, smiling with satisfaction. Esther took another few gulps of wine.

‘Well, it will be less trouble for me. And less trouble suits me just fine.’

‘Indeed. We must take good care of you, Lady Denham. Travelling at an advanced age isn’t always the best. And with a friend of the prince regent, just imagine what it’ll do for Sanditon once the ton hears that one of theirs has married here.’

His speech had the opposite effect. She glanced at Lord Babington now, who looked pensive. But her attention was quickly drawn to her fuming aunt.

‘If you want to take good care of me, I suggest you stop giving me heart attacks with your ridiculous spending, flimsy promises and uninsured buildings! And as for my age and health, I’ll have you know that I am just as strong as before and if they marry elsewhere, I’ll go there all the same! Advanced aged, phuh. My grandmother was a lot older than I am now when she died!’

Esther could swear she heard someone mutter ‘Lord save us’, but couldn’t pinpoint where it came from.

She now wished to have the wedding in Babington’s parish just to spite the annoying man who wanted to use them for Sanditon’s merit. She was sick of it. He’d used her aunt’s money for years, and now even her wedding had to serve his goal, she didn’t owe him anything. But her aunt’s money was in Sanditon, and to have it in Sanditon was also beneficial to her aunt. It also meant that there would be more people in the church whom she knew, a church full of strangers ready to form an opinion on her was not something she looked forward to, not that she particularly cared for the people in Sanditon.

She eyed her glass for a matter of seconds, calculating how many glasses she’d already had, but drank nonetheless once Babington started speaking. Something inside of her still made her want to appear busy.

‘So as I said, it is up to Miss Denham and me’, Lord Babington explained.

She could now feel his eyes on her, and this time, she looked back.

‘Do you have a preference?’

‘I suppose it would be rather odd if not even Lady Denham’s family would marry here, after all the money and time she put into this place.’ Her aunt had been not kind exactly, but mild, and now perhaps, Esther could present a last peace offering. ‘But I only make half of the decision.’

Babington nodded with a smile.

‘Well, I believe we can have the wedding in Sanditon’, Lord Babington announced.

‘Excellent!’ cried Tom Parker who continued eating with gusto. Esther would have married in Gretna Green just to spite him, but this was for her aunt, she reminded herself, so she continued eating her dinner in peace.  
  


After dinner, the guests retreated to the living room together. Lady Denham, who did wish for background noise, deemed Esther, as second lady of the house, the ideal person to set the example for the other women to play a piece of music.

‘Aunt, you know very well I don’t play.’

‘You play, you simply don’t play well. But heavens, do at least something.’

She’d played against her own wishes before, but never in front of a crowd. Lord Babington overheard, and, not wishing his fiancée to be distressed, he decided to intervene.

‘Perhaps I could play? Though I did neglect my schooling for years. I doubt I’ll be any good, but it might just be sufficient.’

‘If only you were half as willing to please as your fiancé, Esther. Very well, Lord Babington. But the least you can do, Esther, is accompany him and turn the pages. Better yet, play a duet.’

Esther froze, but knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid it, so when Lord Babington rose, so did she, and they took their place together upon the bench.

‘You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, right? Your aunt won’t make a scene now. I’ll take care of it.’

‘Is that so? I find that hard to believe with all the things I’m expected to do. You keep covering up for me, but what is in it for you? I’m offering so little.’

‘You have already delighted and amazed me each time we met. You don’t have to prove your worth.’

‘Perhaps you simply have a poor taste in women.’

‘I hope I can convince you during our courtship that my taste in women isn’t bad, Miss Denham.’

She couldn’t help her heartbeat when she sat so close to him. The presence of his body had an odd effect on her. On the one hand she could barely bear to look at him, and on the other his physical presence was enough to make her dizzy. He leafed through the book, waiting for her to stay stop. In the end, she stopped him at a very easy number.

‘I hope this one won’t be too much trouble?’

‘And will you sing or join me?’ he asked.

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Of course you do, dear girl. I promised I would take care of this. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on being happy. You are the _only_ thing in your way! Don't you see that? I promised to take care of this, and I promise to take care of you every day of the rest of my life, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad times.'

He shook his head fondly, and although she did believe – or at least partially – that her happiness was all he wanted from her, it was still too difficult to honestly admit.

Babington pressed a couple of keys, fingers searching for their placement amongst the lines of white.

He started playing the tune, a bit slower than he should, but faultless. She wanted to be there for him, she decided.

_‘How many would-be suitors have I seen founder on the rocks of your disdain? It will take a bolder man than Babington to pierce your armour.’_

Bolder than continuing to write to her when she didn’t give him any attention? Bolder than just asking her to marry him on the spot? Bolder than forcing himself past two servants explicitly telling him off? Bolder than someone who conquered their own hurt and swallowed their own pride just to check if everything was fine? 

She doubted she’d find a man who’d do all that, and open his heart twice despite being hurt by the same person before.

He gave her freedom, he gave her choices, he didn’t manipulate her, he was honest, he was loyal and he was sincere. The contrast with Edward couldn’t have been starker.

She now also realized that the way her aunt had pushed her towards Lord Babington, had coloured her experience. Babington was not just someone she knew and interacted with. He was a person who was forced on her by one family member, while another family member encouraged her to see him as the stupidest man on earth. She’d never been able to make up her mind about him herself. One said she had to see him as the perfect husband, an the other as a dumb superficial man. No longer. She did have her own set of feelings and opinions about him now, and was free to have them.

Esther meekly took to the keys to play her part.

‘Thank you for asking Charlotte.’

‘I had my own reasons, I wasn’t merely doing you a service.’

Oh I have no doubt’, Lord Babington laughed.

‘Is a Sanditon wedding truly what you want?’ Lord Babington asked.

‘It is the best, I suppose’, she shrugged.

‘My family won’t mind the trip. And their stay will at the very least bring in some money for Sanditon. Perhaps I could convince some friends to come too. I’d had half a mind to suggest this place, since Tom could use all the money he can get. Any financial trouble of Tom affects Sidney. It’s the least I can do.’

Esther nodded slowly. He would throw his wedding here just to help a friend.

Back when he’d asked her for permission to write to her, she had come close to him to deliver her final line, fully intending to tease him before leaving him behind unbothered, her heart jumped when she remembered looking up at him, shocked by their closeness. She remembered his eyes looking at her lips, and the silence that stretched in the middle of the bustling street, a single second she’d believed he’d kiss her right there in the street.

She could feel his eyes on her in just the same way now.

Applause erupted. And she became aware of the room once again. Her body heat shot up, but she refused to blush. The pair stood and abandoned the piano, with Mrs. Parker offering to replace them.

She looked next to her, receiving a small smile from Babington. She smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who wanted to check out more about Esther's clothing choices, I made a discussion topic https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/614596952468930560/character-development-through-colour-esther


	4. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther tries to imagine what her life as Lady Babington might look like. Meanwhile, she tries to swallow her pride and allow Babington a look behind the curtain of aloofness and show him some of her worries and insecurities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 50 ways to Sanditon challenge by @sanditoncreative on tumblr. Prompt: Pride.

Hands down, I'm too proud for love  
But with eyes shut, it's you I'm thinking of  
But how we move from A to B  
It can't be up to me cause you don't know  
Eye to eye, thigh to thigh, I let go

I think I'm a little bit, little bit  
A little bit in love with you  
But only if you're a little bit, little bit  
Little bit in love with me

**_Little Bit,_ Lykke Li**

‘I believe we make a rather good pair’, Lord Babington decided with a smile as they walked towards a less populated area of the large room. He was using their performance to make the topic of their relationship accessible. Esther recognized the attempt, but it did not help her.

Esther refused to meet his eye, instead she opted to look at Mrs. Parker’s play. It was funny, she never struggled to meet his eye before, but ever since her relationship with Edward had crumbled and her courtship with Babington had become official, it had become harder. ‘You say that based on one not absolutely horrible quatre mains?’ she questioned.

‘Do tell me what further prove you need, and I shall provide it.’

‘I believe a couple needs to be in sync in more ways than one.’

‘Do they?’ he asked innocently.

They did not. Few couples married for love. As such, most in their circles were lucky if they had a decent understanding with their spouse. But that had never been a particularly attractive option to Esther. Now that they were quite isolated, she could take the opportunity to talk with a bit more liberty. She wanted to give him some more personality to work with. He’d supported her so much throughout the night in many small ways she had not expected.

‘It is preferable. You cannot disagree it is a helpful quality in a marriage.’

‘It certainly is,’ he nodded, ‘which is why it is a good thing we have already proven to work together in multiple ways, and many more to come I hope.’

The lump in her throat returned. He was pushing her again. Towards what, she did not know, neither did she know if she minded.

‘In what ways do we work together according to you?’

‘We played well together on the first try.’

Esther rolled her eyes, managing to look him in the eyes as she gave him an exasperated smile.

‘We dance well together.’

A fact indeed, so she nodded. He did not loosen his hold on her gaze now that he had it.

‘But that’s where it ends’, she noted.

‘It doesn’t have to’, he said softly as he reached for her hand.

Her hand burned between his. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and could feel the soft pillows of his hands encapsulating hers, and the parts hardened by horseback riding rubbing against her knuckles.

Lord Babington had told her he was alright with her not being in love with him, yet the gentleman appeared to do everything to get her to fall for him. Her heart beat rapidly as she struggled against her pride, which did not allow her to open up or break her façade.

‘Well, I guess that means we’ll have to learn a bit more about each other to know.’

His smile was not wide, however it was slow and hopeful, and that made her heart jump as much as it made her uncomfortable. 

‘I would like that very much, Esther.’

His thumb brushed across her fingers, she could feel the cold metal of her ring shifting underneath the pressure, but most of all she could feel the pressure building up in her belly as a result of the friction of his skin against hers. The combination of the physical sensation, the whispered sound of her name and the look in his eyes left her unsteady.

She took a startled step backwards. She had not expected to feel such a strong desire, and especially not so soon into their courtship. She knew it was odd to be so taken aback by it, given that she already admitted to herself that she considered him attractive, and she had kissed him just a couple of days earlier, but that kiss had been a combination of all the emotions she had been feeling that night. He let her go easily.

‘Do you play cards?’ he asked unbothered by the physical rejection.

‘I don’t.’

She didn’t offer any further information, but he didn’t keep on guessing either.

‘What kind of games do you enjoy?’

‘Chess’, she answered as she nodded at a small table with large chess pieces near the hearth.

With his arms, he invited her to the table, and she sat down in the chair in front of the black pieces.

‘Perhaps, this might be the first thing we can learn about each other. How good are you at chess?’ he asked.

‘It’ll be more fun to find out for yourself’, she decided as she placed two pawns upon the field.

Babington nodded, going over all his pieces before making a move.

‘You’ve just learned my favourite colour. What’s yours?’

‘Guess.’

‘That’s not the point of asking a question’, Esther defended.

‘Nonetheless. Try to guess first.’

Esther thought for a couple of minutes, in between thinking about the game.

‘Blue.’

‘Correct’, he decided with a smile.

‘Since you didn’t answer my question, I might as well ask another one.’

‘No, you may not. You didn’t answer my question either’, Lord Babington laughed.

‘Favourite piece of music?’ he decided to ask. She did not have any difficulty answering that one, and quickly came up with a question of her own.

‘Do you prefer London or your own home?’

‘Both feel like home’, he answered truthfully as he switched the rook and the king, ‘because in London I’m with my friends and doing what I feel I’m best at. While at home, I feel at ease and peaceful in my mind.’

She wondered how she would fit in in both places. Now was as good a time as any to ask. She took a breath and threw the question out there before she changed her mind.

‘Where will I live?’

His forehead wrinkled, almost as if he didn’t understand her question.

‘With me, of course.’

‘But you have two homes.’

‘I do.’

‘Many wives stay at the country estates all year through.’

He nodded, finally understanding what she was getting at. ‘Many do, especially those with quite some children. They dislike the going to and fro, and the constant disruption of their routines. However, many wives also enjoy going to London for the season. I heard there are real groups of women bonding over being neglected by their husbands and laughing about their shared experiences. They get ready for parties together and throw dinners for each other all the time.’

He could see this comforted her just as much as it worried her. However, he did not yet understand that she found the prospected of having to go through getting to know all those women, befriending them, and trying to fit in what would already be a tightknit community rather daunting. He thought she would be happy to have company, even though he knew she had high standards for her company. He guessed that would be the reason.

‘They’re not all as vain and shallow as they’re made out to be in cartoons and stories. Some are really pleasant and intelligent. You have Lady Susan and… Lady Byron is very intelligent too, and very unlike her husband. Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley are very pleasant, clever ladies too, you would especially love Mrs. Darcy. And then there’s Crowe’s sister.’

‘He has a sister?’ she asked, temporarily distracted.

‘He does’, Lord Babington smiled, reminiscing times she had come to pick him up after he’d had one too many, or times she had entertained their set during a dinner party.

‘Where is he tonight, I wonder?’

‘Ah, he was in need of a good night’s rest for the journey tomorrow. He’ll be leaving with us.’

‘Whatever prompted that need?'

‘I’m sworn to secrecy.’

‘That would do, and I would be none the wiser as to the reason, if only the gentleman himself was discreet about his vices. He is hungover.’

Lord Babington’s eyes creased in amusement as he nodded. He did love how she spoke. However, he felt it was necessary to go back to the topic they were discussing.

‘But, to get back to the topic, the choice is yours. Both are done.’

‘Choosing between being without you at a country estate, or being without you in town. Why, my aunt was wrong, a young husband won’t be much of a bother either’, Esther honed with a teasing smile.

‘I would make time for you’, he quickly promised, deciding now was not the time for humour. Her bravado crumbled, a wry laugh pushing its way past her lips as she looked at her chess pieces, pushing one forward absentmindedly. If she agreed to accompany him anywhere, would that be seen as being in love with him?

‘I guess I can try both out, and see. I might enjoy spending time with a large group of female friends, discussing our husbands.’

‘Oh dear, I hope you’ll still find a little bit of time for me.’

‘I can’t make any promises. I guess it’ll depend’, Esther teased, easily slipping into banter with him as she always did.

‘Depends on what?’

She bit her lip, eyes fluttering towards the board as he made his move. She had not thought her comment through at all, yet now she had to come up with an answer. As she thought of possibilities, her heartbeat picked up. She opted between playing it safe, risking he pried further, and a bolder option which would hopefully be shameful enough for him to drop it. She took another pawn which had been left unguarded after he moved his knight.

‘On whether there will be multiple bedrooms in London. If we share a room, I am sure we’ll see each other.’

Lord Babington’s parents had always shared a room, and so had Esther’s, neither knew this of the other, but both knew many couples who possessed enough wealth, held separate rooms. Lord Babington knew not whether he was supposed to interpret this as her not minding the possibility of a shared bedroom, or her preferring to have separate rooms if possible.

‘If you wish it, we can pretend like there is only one room. But we can definitely have separate rooms. It depends on what you want.’

She was so loaded with choices, after having had virtually non save for choosing her clothes, it was overwhelming. She hardly knew what she wanted. She didn’t know the ups and downs of having private bedrooms. She didn’t know what Babington wanted, and his opinion could not be overlooked. It was his house, and this marriage included the both of them. Would she hurt him by saying no? He said he didn’t care that she didn’t love him, but did it mean he accepted a marriage without that aspect? He was a lord, a lord needs an heir. Would it be better to have separate rooms until they grew towards each other to share a bed, be it out of love or out of the need for an heir? Or would sharing a room encourage affection?

‘Please, Esther, tell me what you are thinking. I would not have us stony-faced and full of pretence. Not with each other.’

‘I don’t know what I want, right now. I suppose, there’s still time between now and then, to decide what is the better option. It’s just that I want to know what you want. It’s unfair I have to give my opinion while you don’t share yours. Equality and all’, she quickly added the last two sentences to make it a bit more casual and comic. It was odd how she had never had an issue saying the truth, even if it wasn’t proper, but it now made her uncomfortable.

‘When I said I wanted to share my life with you, that pertained to all areas of life. However, the price of that may not be your comfort, since I also want to see you happy. We’ll find a path where we can meet each other, where we’re both comfortable and happy. When I share a bed with you, I want you to come willingly. If that’s immediately after the wedding, months after, or not at all.’

‘But, heirs.’

‘My sister can inherit the estate anyways.’

There she had her answer, and truth be told she didn’t even know whether she wanted him to give up that much for her. She couldn’t imagine her happiness being worth that much to him. It did satisfy her though, he gave her honesty and a choice.

_‘When I share a bed with you, I want you to come willingly.’_

It sent shivers down her spine, simultaneously frightening and enticing her. She did not want to leave him hanging, but knew not what to say. It was difficult, and not only because the topic related to something no one was supposed to talk about, she honestly did not know.

‘Thank you.’

It was far from a perfect answer, but it felt like the right thing to say. Lord Babington nodded, seemingly understanding her trouble and giving her the time and space she needed.

She noticed her white knight was unprotected, with no immediate safe spot to go to. Doubting it would survive another move unprotected, she decided to move it towards Babington. She would take his final bishop down with her.

‘Well, Babington. You are without knights or bishops, however will you do?’

‘I’m good as long as I have my queen’, he smiled, easily plucking her knight off the board.

‘Corny’, she huffed with a smile before breaking eye contact.

Esther looked at the chess board, bemoaning the loss of her black bishop and white knight. They would have come in handy now. As she grew frustrated with the game, her mind suddenly grew an urgent desire to know even more. As she watched the game board, she overheard the people in the background arguing where one could take the best walks in Sanditon. It brought her mind back to her walks with Babington.

‘Do you enjoy walking?’

‘I – well, it’s been a long time since I’ve walked for any other reason than reaching a destination… Well, except here in Sanditon of course.’

‘Then do you ride the carriage for fun?’

‘Not really. Well, sometimes when I go on weekends with friends we hold carriage races. Those are fun.’

‘What do you do with your days then?’

‘Mostly working. Either for parliament, or paperwork for my estate, my ventures with Crowe and Sidney take up quite some time too. Though it all comes in waves. My work for the estate is the highest in harvest, my ventures with Crowe and Sidney are mostly limited to Spring and Summer, and Parliament, well, you know when that takes up time..’

He understood his fiancée was trying to picture what her life was about to look like. Thinking it over, it did seem like he had little time for a wife.

‘I do enjoy sports, and things like dancing and talking, so I enjoy balls and usually attend a great many. I like to play cards or boardgames, most times with a drink’, he smiled.

Esther rolled her eyes.

‘And I read a lot, mostly about politics and philosophy, but I do enjoy the occasional historical novel. I could spend the entire night just reading in a nice armchair in my study or a drawing room.’

It was a way in which she had not yet seen Lord Babington. Yet her mind easily conjured an imagine of a relaxed Lord Babington in front of a fireplace in a study, a glass of brandy on a little side-table, while she herself was sitting in another armchair reading her novel, a glass of wine on a small table next to her, a pet resting on the carpet between them. A future in which she didn’t have to do anything to entertain others in a certain way during the evening hours. She wanted that. She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from smiling.

His hand moved in front of her, taking away her last powerful piece save for her king and queen, and she only had few pawns left. Meanwhile, he still had both of his rooks. He was beating her, she realized with a shock.

Edward had made all these jokes about his intellect, and she had eagerly participated and called him names, though mostly in gest without any real conviction, however by and by, she was learning just how perceptive and intelligent he was. It intrigued her, because he was not intelligent in a sly and cunning way like her aunt, cousin and step-brother, all of whom had hurt her by using their cunning and manipulation in one way or the other.

The game continued, though she spent the remainder of it agonizing over her next moves, she couldn’t be frustrated, and couldn’t help a smile finding its ways towards her lips and staying there, even when she let exasperated sighs as he took piece by piece away from her.

She managed to catch one rook with her queen, but two moves later, her queen was gone.

‘You’re not letting me win’, she complained.

‘You would be insulted if I let you’, Babington laughed.

‘Yet, the loss wounds my pride just the same.’

‘Perhaps, with practice, your pride would not have to suffer as much.’

Practice with him, as she spent time with him.

‘It appears I could use that.’

Her answer satisfied him, and she could not ignore the little jump her belly made when he smiled back at her.

Not long after, the first people started leaving. As Lady Denham was busy saying goodbye to everyone, Esther and Babington stayed behind in the room for a bit.

‘So, I’ll make sure the banns are read this Sunday. And then I’ll be off to London to arrange some paperwork and do some work. I’m not sure yet when I may return. But I heard people say distance makes the heart grow fonder, I hope that’s just a little bit true.’

‘Oh, do they? I wouldn’t know about that’, Esther answered coyly. However, after their long conversations, she did not wish to hurt him by pretending to be hard and unfeeling, so she allowed her humour to shimmer through.

‘Wouldn’t you?’ he asked with glowing eyes.

‘I remember how I gave you permission to write to me, about a month ago. I expect to receive enough letters to give me the feeling you’re right here.’

‘Ah, but of course. I shall write to you, Miss Denham, and won’t let the privilege to write to you go to waste’, Lord Babington agreed with a smile.

‘Good.’

The silence between them stretched, both looking at the other, but not knowing what to say anymore. Her entire being was on edge, but she knew it was not caused by anything he did, or any fear or dread. She did not want to leave the room.

‘Miss Denham, Esther… May I kiss you?’

He was asking, even though she had already initiated a kiss before. He was offering his love, even though she had done nothing to imply she returned it, but she knew he was merely offering and the choice was up to her. Her lips tingled, remembering the last time their mouths had met. Shivers ran down her arms and her heart beat violently. It was close to fear, but a positive kind. Excitement. She had not had a single moment with him she hadn’t enjoyed. He had never treated her wrongly, and she hadn’t learned a single thing she disliked. She didn’t feel ready to give her heart yet, but she did want to know him and take what he offered. Perhaps, it could help her figure out her emotions. Just as she felt ready to agree, she could feel her hesitancy growing again, unsure whether she wanted to agree with anything, afraid what he would think and what she might feel if she let go, but she pushed that annoying voice aside.

‘Yes.’

He took her hands again, gently smiling as he lifted them to his lips, first kissing the one and then kissing the other. She could feel a heat spreading throughout her body, even though there was nothing inappropriate about it. He pulled on her hands, and she stepped closer.

His superior height now became apparent, she was frozen on the spot and would not turn away as he brought his hands up to her neck, his thumbs gently massaging her neck and working their way up until they were massaging the hair around her temples.

She could hear her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

She had flung herself at him fuelled by pure adrenaline. It had been a light kiss, her cold hands on his warm cheeks, and afterwards had come the giddiness as he had briefly touched her sides and kissed her back.

This kiss was deliberate though, and she could not help but wait until what was coming finally happened, however, he did not appear to be in any rush as he slowly inched closer before planting his lips against her cheek. She inhaled sharply, yet came out feeling oddly empty and agitated. She had expected a real kiss. Her feelings only confused her further.

Before she could give it much thought, his lips moved south, pressing long slow kisses with his firm lips against her cheek. But then, she felt it: firm, moving hotness against her lips. She let a sigh she didn’t know she’d been holding as she turned toward his lips. She ever so slightly sank through her knees as her hands found their way to his shoulders. She could now feel his torso against hers, firm and present and warm. She pressed her chest against his without being aware of it, it felt so natural to be held there close to him. She’d been denied the physical comfort of regular human touch for years, and her body quickly melted against the provider of heat and comfort. Her hands slid upward, moving towards his hair in an embrace which felt even more natural and comfortable.

His lips pressed and drew, opened and closed, and she could ever so slightly feel his hot breath against her face as she answered the hunger of his mouth and love on his lips. But even with her lungs already struggling and heart failing, her body wanted more than she could comprehend. The only thing her mind knew was that it wanted to taste, and it was now so blank she could not help but surrender to its whims. She opened her mouth as well, closing her lips around his bottom-lip and drawing it in. The inside of his lip felt oddly cooler. Before she could help herself, her tongue had darted out to taste the change in texture and commit its shape to memory.

Babington inhaled, his lip jumping back from between.

‘Esther.’

She had never heard him like that. Her eyes jumped open. His pupils were so enlarged his eyes appeared to be almost entirely black. Had that been… a moan?

Her heart just stopped.

And then they were kissing with fervour again. She was tugging at his hair, and he was stroking hers, but when the door creaked, they jumped apart. It turned out to be just the wind from down the hall, but it was a sobering experience.

She could not doubt how she felt about the kiss. But what did the kiss tell her about how she liked him? Was it just a very good kiss? Was she physically attracted to him? Was it a sign of love?

‘Will you accompany me to… to the … door?’ Lord Babington asked.

Esther nodded, struggling to find her voice.

‘Sure.’

Lady Denham was just walking back inside from seeing off her other guests.

‘Ah, Lord Babington. Going too, I see’, she noted.

Lord Babington nodded politely.

‘Well, save travels. I hope we may expect to see you back soon.’

‘I hope so too. And I hope to find both of you in good health when I return.’

He bowed to Lady Denham, and then turned to Esther.

‘Do take care to write your address clearly this time, instead of a hurried cursive’, Esther calmly said.

It took Lord Babington a couple of seconds before he realized she was talking about his letters, and another few before he realized the meaning of her words. She was suggesting that she might write him back.

‘I shall, Miss Denham. Have a good night.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!


	5. On the Merits of Friendship and Parkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back to their private residences, but life in Sanditon won’t pause. Between Georgiana’s hatred for her guardian, Charlotte’s love for said ward, Esther’s wedding preparations and James Stringer’s life which burned down with the terrace, they are overall quite occupied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 50 ways to Sanditon challenge: The Jane Austen Special pack: A proud and unpleasant sort of man

It was a strange experience attending mass, when one’s name was called in church. Esther could feel everyone’s eyes going to her person, and she didn’t know if she imagined murmuring voices. She kept a brave face, appearing occupied with rearranging the folds of her blue coat. After church, multiple families came to her and Lady Denham to convey their well-wishes. Enquiries were made to Lady Denham’s health, the date of the wedding, and the number of guests.

Growing weary of the empty conversations in which people merely meant to discover how grand the wedding would be, Esther left her aunt and started wandering. Away from the flock of people still hanging around the church to catch up with others, Esther noticed a familiar blue spencer and bonnet on the graveyard around the corner. A young man dressed in brown, hat in hands, stood in front of a grave as Miss Heywood talked to him.

Hadn’t she seen him at the ball? She tried to get as close as she could without being noticed. The dirt still looked fresh, and there was only a cross at the end. Whoever died, had died recently. As the newly baptized babies, recently deceased, newly married and newly engaged people were called out in consequence, and Esther had been paying attention, she remembered not many had died the past week. Who had the young man lost? If he was one of the parents who had recently lost a baby or a wife, he wouldn’t be comforted by Miss Heywood. He had to have lost a parent or grandparent. Poor boy, she could still remember the immense sense of loss and despair when her parents died.

Esther bumped into her again hours later out on the street, she had exchanged her spencer for a beige coat.

‘Ah, Miss Heywood.’

‘Oh, Miss Denham, I apologize, I didn’t notice you.’

‘Yes, you did look rather distracted.’

She eyed the shabby tiny house Miss Heywood exitted. Who could live there that she needed to see?

‘Out alone?’

‘Y-yes? I was just making a call on a friend of mine, his father recently died.’

The young man she’d seen at church, without a doubt. Esther loved walking alone, but she’d never visited a man on her own. And especially after Edward’s allegations, she knew just how fragile a woman’s reputation was.

‘I see, but I must insist it isn’t wise to visit men in their houses without any female chaperones. Unless his mother was present? Once people start talking, it is hard to put a hold on the rumours.’

‘Yes, I suppose I hadn’t thought of that. His mother wasn’t there, she’s dead as well. It’s just, well… I’m worried about him. He’s lost all of his family, and in such a way.’

Miss Heywood bit her lip, clearly unsure whether it was wise to continue sharing.

‘In what way?’

‘His father was the workman who died in the fire, you see.’

‘Oh.’ She knew not how to express herself further, but she managed to put enough emotion in the syllable so that more words weren’t necessary.

Miss Heywood nodded slowly.

Esther took in the face of the younger woman. This was probably to be her bridesmaid. It was important she started building an understanding with her. She sifted through her memories of Miss Heywood, and deemed the outright and caring girl would probably appreciate honesty, good advice and a sign that she cared.

‘It is not easy to lose a parent, especially both’, Esther admitted.

Miss Heywood perked up at this, her insecure face clearing up.

‘I admit I have no experience, I still have both my parents, never lost a brother or sister, and still have most of my grandparents.’

‘Ah real treasure. I lost all of mine, except for a forgetful grandmother on my mother’s side. It’s been quite some time. I don’t know if I am supposed to be glad I lost them early on, so I had less memories to look back on, or whether it is all the more sad because I did not have their guidance or support during some of my formative years.’

‘Perhaps, deciding whether there is such a thing as a better and worse loss is a bad thing to do.’

‘I believe so, though the mind cannot help but wonder.’

Miss Heywood nodded.

‘Will the pain get better one day?’

‘Yes, of course. I took their loss badly though, I mourned intensely for almost a year. Even now here are times when it hurts less, and times when it hurts more.’

She could see the girl absorbing it, nodding all the while she talked.

‘Would you say… if I may ask… that you changed your life after their deaths?’

‘You may, it’s fine. It was a long time ago. Of course it changed. My mother and I lost our breadwinner. So budgeting changed. Then a new husband came along. Then they died, and my whole life changed around. Ended up in this place, was sent to a boarding school full of awful brats by Lady Denham, and after that I immediately became head of the household at Denham Place, having to take care of all the finances and staff. I imagine my life would have been very different had my father lived. I never would have had a step-brother, would have grown up in my first hometown, and lord knows what would have happened. And if my mother and her new husband hadn’t died, the events of the past week definitely wouldn’t have happened. So my life changed, my behaviour changed, and my future changed involuntarily.’

Perhaps if their parents hadn’t died, Edward would have had a strong male example during his teenage years, and someone to hold him liable during his twenties. How would he have been with more guidance and support? How would they have grown up if parental figures had been present in the house? She definitely wouldn’t have grown up as desperately attached and dependent on Edward if she had others to love and be loved by.

‘Perhaps it is better if you tell me, Miss Heywood. You are bad at hiding. What do you want to talk about?’

‘Mr. Stringer had been accepted as an apprentice in London. He’s a visionary, really. A natural genius. He always dreamed of being an architect, so it is a once in a lifetime opportunity, really. He will never be able to learn that craft in Sanditon. However, before his father passed, they had an argument, because his father saw it as an insult to the family tradition of being a construction worker. I believe he felt like he would be losing his son, and perhaps felt a bit inferior. However, it matters not what I think. But now Mr. Stringer doesn’t want the apprenticeship, because the last conversation he ever had with his father was about how his father disapproved of him going.’

‘He feels like he’s honouring his father’s legacy and last wishes’, Esther concluded. Miss Heywood nodded.

‘It’ll be tough to convince him otherwise, Miss Heywood.’

Her face crumbled. She actually looked devasted.

‘Just be there for him. It’s the best you can do. He’ll be feeling quite lonely, especially as he’s living alone.’

Miss Heywood nodded.

‘So, we talked about your wedding last time. Would you like Georgiana and me to drop by sometime the coming week?’ Miss Heywood asked, deciding that nothing useful could be added to the topic.

‘Sure. I’ll make a list of all that needs to be done tomorrow, would Tuesday work out for you?’

‘Well, my schedule is clear so every day is fine, and I’m certain the same goes for Georgiana.’

‘Very well.’

‘Shall I walk with you on the way home?’

Esther nodded, and could not help but feel a little bit useful and pleased for the remainder of the day.

Tuesday brought the two younger women to the house. Esther ran over a list of chores, and the ladies agreed to start working on the embroidery of all the textiles Lady Denham had already bought in advance of the wedding. Napkins for the wedding breakfast, small towels and handkerchiefs. For now, it was decided that thirty napkins would suffice until the full guest list was decided upon.

And so the ladies sat down, embroidering blue initials on the linen.

The conversation started out innocent and neutral, about the weather, music, and Tom Parker, but before long, the topic diverted, and from one Parker, the conversation smoothly transitioned in a discussion about another Parker sibling.

‘I hope he stays away, he’s a proud, unpleasant sort of man anyways’, Miss Lambe huffed as she stabbed her needle through a handkerchief.

‘He can stay in London forever to find money, for all I care. Money, money, money. It’s all men ever care about.’

The expression on Miss Lambe’s face didn’t go along with her angry words though, it looked altogether more sullen.

‘Afraid so’, Esther admitted, thinking back on Edward and the tale of her aunt.

‘I don’t really believe the Parkers are that obsessed with money’, Charlotte replied with an innocent smile but a serious voice in a way which Esther understood was habitual for whenever Charlotte tried to convince Georgiana otherwise.

‘But they do love spending it’, Esther smirked.

‘This whole town reached its current shape because of Tom’s spending sprees, and didn’t Sidney Parker spent a small fortune at the gambling tables years ago? The only two I’ll give the benefit of the doubt are the sister and the younger one. They seem far more absorbed in trends and altogether more innocent pass-times.’

‘That was a long time ago. He’s long since changed his ways, paid his debts and is now doing his best to keep the entire family from ruin’, Charlotte defended shyly.

‘I shall leave Arthur Parker out of my generalisation’, Georgiana added. ‘He’s foolish and impulsive but not a big spender. I do not know the sister all too well.’

‘Had we not agreed the previous time our fathers were good people?’ Charlotte continued with a confident smile.

‘Oh, for sure Miss Heywood, you do take the fun out of it. Can’t we enjoy our gossip and exaggerations?’

‘I’m not really fond of gossip. To gossip and talk poorly of someone simply because one does not know any better can be forgiven since people are naturally curious and make assumptions about things they do not know, but to wrongfully accuse a group of people of something is… well… wrong. For example, we already have five examples of men who definitely aren’t obsessed with gaining money. What about your fiancé, does Lord Babington care a lot for money?’

It took Esther aback. She had not thought of him at all. In fact, Lord Babington defied a lot of her assumptions. Everything she’d thought about men had to be reconsidered because of him, except… did not the exception prove the rule? Or was it that the existence of one black swan was more important to an argument than the presence of one hundred white swans? However, in this case, there were already five examples and he was to be the sixth.

‘Up until now… it appears he does not. Alright, I stand corrected in my belief. Do you, Miss Lambe?’

Miss Lambe took her time, stabbing the poor handkerchief a couple more times before looking at Esther and Miss Heywood.

‘Given that although my father was a good man, he sent me to Great-Britain to attract a nice noble suitor with my wealth to add a title to the fortune, given that my ward is afraid all men will ever care for is my wealth and using that as an excuse to control me, that Lady Denham invited me over just because I was rich and made Edward to be nice to me because of my wealth, and that the only person I truly loved since arriving in this dreary country only ever wanted me for my wealth… It will still take a lot more proof before my faith in men gets any better.’

Esther could very well relate. She too was forced into everything due to money, only she was because of their lack of it.

‘Maybe Lord Babington has a cousin’, Esther laughed.

This made Miss Heywood laugh, and even Miss Lambe cracked a smile.

‘Or maybe Miss Heywood has a brother?’ Esther asked.

‘Oh, I never asked you about your family!’ cried Miss Lambe, ‘I know you have a sister called Alison, but how many siblings do you have?’

Miss Heywood’s cheeks grew red.

‘Eleven’, she answered as she took the next handkerchief.

‘Eleven!’

‘Your parents must love each other very much’, Esther remarked.

‘Oh, they do. We did grow up in a loving household. Even with eleven they found time for all of us.’

Esther smirked, and allowed Miss Lambe to continue her questioning.

All the names, ages and hobbies of the siblings were uncovered before long.

‘Has anyone of them married already?’

‘No, they haven’t’, Miss Heywood smiled. ‘Some of us are already of age, so it wouldn’t be strange should one of us get married. But it’s so strange to think one of us will be leaving the home soon. This trip is the first time I’ve been away from home, and I miss them so much. I can’t imagine being without them forever. Who will shoot rabbits with them? Learn the younger ones to read. I can’t imagine being gone, nor can I imagine remaining behind.’

‘It is an odd period in one’s life, moving out, yet, inevitable if we wish to be wives and mothers and financially secure’, Esther sighed.

‘How do you feel about it?’ Miss Heywood asked.

‘Haven’t really thought of it’, Esther admitted. ‘I have no particular attachment to Sanditon… And I’ve only spent a couple of weeks in Lady Denham’s company. The other people I grew up with I already lost. It’s a difference experience for me, Miss Heywood, especially since I’m even older and can feel time ticking past. Although, I admit that even though I am leaving virtually nothing behind, that doesn’t mean the new isn’t frightening.’

‘Well.. It doesn’t really sound encouraging if it is already hard for you. And you already have some experience with running a house. I do not believe a single person could be more prepared for marriage.’

Esther couldn’t even do more than blink. She, prepared for marriage? The notion seemed profoundly ridiculous, yet, in a way, Miss Heywood was right. On paper, Esther was very prepared for marriage. She was quite old yet young enough to have a couple of years left to produce heirs, past the silly age where girls expected men to be silly and marriage to be a dream, had experience in managing a household, and nothing to leave behind. Her mind rebelled against the notion. She felt anything but fit for marriage, it baffled her that she still seemed to be a good bride on paper, when her reputation was in tatters and over half of the time she’d spent with Lord Babington had been spent refusing him. She was a joke of a bride, she had even refused his marriage proposal and had declared, in front of him none the less, to be anything but in love with him less than a week ago.

‘To me, moving seems awful. But on the other hand, it is exciting to finally be together with the one you love… Or well, I assume it would be nice’, Miss Heywood quickly covered up.

‘I guess.’

Esther hadn’t really thought about moving yet. She allowed the thought to swirl in her mind. She tried to imagine moving, but her thoughts stopped the moment she imagined Babington helping her into the carriage. She could not imagine the house, nor living in it. It wasn’t that she lacked an imagination, she’d been able to paint pictures of Italian places she’d never visited, and Venetian canals she’d never crossed. Was it because Edward had promised her more, and had listed specific things which she could expect? Or was it because she’d had more time to think about a future with him? She had spent years dreaming about being together, after all. Annoyance bubbled up inside of her, it wasn’t fair that she could imagine the unrealistic prospects Edward had failed to live up to, but was unable to think about the real and impending promises of a life with Lord Babington. She attacked the napkin, allowing her frustration to run free.

But then, came to images. They weren’t as clear, but they were there. Moments playing chess with Babington, walks and carriage rides, dances, Babington smiling at her. She could not imagine the places, but she could imagine being with him. It was odd, in her visions of life with Edward, she had always been able to imagine the places, and sometimes Edward in a dashing outfit in those places, but never had she been able to imagine them there together. Despite her hopes and his promises, she’d never been able to imagine them together, even though she tried. She sometimes spent hours trying to paint the two of them in a scene, or imagine her and Edward sitting in a gondola together, him pointing out places to her. She managed to, but it always took a lot of effort. The details of the backdrop or of one of them always seemed to fade. The images were fleeting. She always told herself it was because she had not yet experienced a time when she and Edward were together.

Miss Heywood mistook Esther’s silence for the young woman thinking blissfully about the prospect.

‘When shall the marriage take place, Miss Denham?’

‘The middle of August.’

‘Oh, what a lovely time for a wedding’, Miss Heywood smiled.

‘I believe spring to be more romantic, with all the flowers waking up, all the lovely colours.’

‘I can’t turn back time, Miss Lambe.’

‘Alert me if you find a way to, I would gladly turn back time as well.’

Miss Heywood’s eyebrow creased again as she took in the negativity in the room.

‘Surely not. You have gotten to know your future husband during spring. And, well, Georgiana, aren’t you in the least bit happy you got to know me and the youngest Mr. Parker?’

Miss Lambe bit her lip.

‘Charlotte, of course I’m happy I got to know you. I love the time we spend together. You’re my best friend. I- I- It’s just that there are many things I did not enjoy the past spring, and even the past year. A part of me doesn’t want the memories and emotions of this past spring and summer, but on the other hand I do love all our time together. It is confusing, it all runs over into one another. I cannot think of spring as a happy period because I met you, because there’s the other thing as well. I would love to only look back on the past few months with fondness, but I don’t know how.’

Miss Lambe’s speech hit home for Esther. She too wasn’t able to detangle the mess of feelings and experiences of the last couple of months. She didn’t even know how to feel about Lord Babington, everything was overshadowed by her deteriorating relationship with Edward and the growing hostility between her and Clara.

‘It’s just so strange, Sanditon has been the greatest adventure of my life, and yet at the same time for so many it’s been a bad time or a less than great one.’

‘I do hope it will stay that way, Miss Heywood, Sanditon is generally not a place where one enjoys themselves. I do hope you are the rare person that comes away unscathed.’

‘Charlotte, please. Just Charlotte.’

It was the first time anyone had ever asked Esther to call them by anything else than their proper name.

‘Charlotte, then. I wish you would return the favour and call me by my name. It’ll be a good deal more durable than Miss Denham. I do hope you will be the exception to the rule. You already managed to debunk multiple claims of us, I do hope you will disprove the general truth I told you soon after your arrival.’

_All by all, you’ll come to regret ever setting foot in Sanditon._

‘I hope so’, Charlotte smiled.

‘Since me and Charlotte are on a first name basis, and the two of you are, I guess it’s only right I demand we do the same’, Miss Lambe decided.

Esther gave a curt nod, at that exact moment, a maid entered.

‘A letter ma’am, from Lord Babington.’

‘Thanks, you can put it on the table over there’, Esther pointed. The maid placed the letter on the table, and disappeared with a nod.

The silence continued after the door had closed. Looking up, she saw the two young women looking up at her with anticipation.

‘What?’ she asked defensively.

‘Aren’t you excited?’

‘We won’t pry.’

‘It’s just a letter.’

‘From your fiancé’, Georgiana argued baffled.

‘Very well then’, Esther sighed before she slowly walked over to the table.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to read it, but for some reason she felt like she didn’t want to read it immediately.

Her eyes quickly scanned across the neat writing.

_“My dearest Esther,_

_I have safely arrived and have informed the local clergyman of our impending nuptials. My family was quite surprised to hear about it, they wanted to know all about you. I must admit I feel torn between singing praises and keeping them in suspense._

_…_ yada yada yada _… The banns_ … bla bla _… Quite some work…_ Boring _… Going to London for some work with C & P… Invited to a ball… Perhaps you and your aunt could join me. It would delight me to spend some more time with you. However, I have no doubt that alone won’t be enough to lure you to Pretence Capitol, so perhaps you could be persuaded to use this invite to come over and do some wedding shopping. I know young ladies often find a long list of things they need to buy before their wedding… _yada yada… _Emotional mumblings and flattery…_ bla bla… empty chitchat _… I have included my entire guest list, I went over it with my mother and sister today, I shall post this letter tomorrow morning as soon as I can. I do not expect you to write to me, however if you do, this is my address until the 10 th of July, and this is my address in London_… And then the goodbyes _.”_

Looking over her shoulder, she noticed the girls were still looking at her.

‘I’ve just gotten an invite for a ball in London. What do you say, fancy going to London for some wedding shopping?’

Both their eyes lit up, each for their own reason.

‘How about your aunt?’

Esther shrugged.

‘She wanted me married to a lord, she knew I was going to need fancy clothes and other stuff.’

Her aunt said as much that night, and despite only having recently recovered from a grave illness, her eyes gleamed at the prospect of travelling to the capital with her beautiful young niece who was engaged to a lord. She would stab out the eyes of the still living women who had once looked down on her before she was as wealthy as she was now. She had never been above gloating.

Yes, they were to go to London. Bridesmaids included. After all, why not take a wealthy heiress to show off as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if Charlotte is somewhat out of it. We mostly see her as spunky and optimistic. I really clung onto her optimism but feel like Charlotte, throughout the series, has become a lot more careful about showing her opinions and revealing her thoughts because many of her assumptiobs proved to be wrong and she got knocked down time after time after showing her beliefs. I do want to leave Charlotte, Georgiana and James happy though. Should I do an after? I'm starting to think so. I'm going to get them as far towards some happiness, or on the road to happiness, as I can while remaining within canon.


	6. Letters and Shattered Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney Parker returns to Sanditon, carrying news joyful to some, devastating for others. Esther quickly learns that her trip to London might be advantageous for all parties involved.

_“Someone I loved once gave me_ _a box full of darkness._  
 _It took me years to understand_ _that this, too, was a gift.”_

**Mary Oliver**

It is a marvel, how people all live their own quiet lives beside on another, only separated by a couple of walls. Some walls were more handsomely furnished than others, and some had thicker walls, yet bad luck and despair came knocking on their doors all the same. Some had multiple locks on their doors, but the unwelcome visitor fights his way through all the same. First it had stopped by the Denhams, then it had arrived at the Stringer home, and now, it was time for a visit to the Parker household.

At a time when one is visited by the harbinger of bad luck and despair, one does not wish to receive another visitor, since he already makes the room quite crowded. However, on the first of July, the unwelcome guest knocked on the Parker residence, together with a guest called Cheer. However, the visitors did not wait on the same people. Cries of joy drew Charlotte from her bedroom and sent her racing down the hallway. There the Parkers were, all smiling except for one, and soon, her own smile crumbled as well.

The tender hope and feelings of Charlotte Heywood, who had never experienced major heartache and setbacks until now, were dashed most cruelly. Between feverish bouts of crying and hyperventilating, Charlotte thought back on Esther’s words. The older lady had the seniority, and it appeared, the experience to back up her first claim. It had been only a matter of time before the curse of Sanditon struck her, and worse was she could not find a single exception to the rule.

Georgiana was unhappy, she regretted arriving in this town. Esther had been publicly humiliated and betrayed by her brother and cousin. Mr. Stringer had lost his father, and his father had lost all ability to believe and dream. Sidney Parker had lost his first fiancée, and now she and him had been broken up due to unfortunate circumstances brought forth by a single candle. And, poor Mr. Parker, whose visions and hopes were constantly dashed by money complications, and Mrs. Parker, who had no choice but to stand by her husband as they suffered setbacks. Was there truly no happiness to be found here? Her heart bled, but she could not find any energy to blame anyone.

She had always encouraged Sidney to support his family, and he had done the only thing possible that could have saved them. He was a better man, a selfless man, she could not have loved him the same had he turned his back on his family, and all of his little cousins, for her sake.

_“A part of me doesn’t want the memories and emotions of this past spring and summer, but on the other hand I do love all our time together. It is confusing, it all runs over into one another. I cannot think of spring as a happy period because I met you, because there’s the other thing as well. I would love to only look back on the past few months with fondness, but I don’t know how.”_

Oh Georgiana, only now that Charlotte shared in her heartache did she understand! She wanted to be rid of the awful heartache and despair, but therefore the events of the past Spring could not have happened, and they were certainly the happiest memories in her whole life! But she could not look back at all the lovely moments she shared with Sidney, without breaking down again. She did not want to be rid of her memories and happiness, but to have had them, meant she was suffering now.

Five hearts had been broken in Sanditon in little over a month, and only one was on the mend. There were no easy solutions to their predicaments. Each situation appeared to be absolutely hopeless.

You cannot bring a parent back, and how can one dare to dream again if their deceased parent discouraged their child for months. Broken trust rarely heals fully. And money did not grow on trees.

Downstairs, she could hear the piano being played by Mrs. Parker, as Tom Parker was apparently playing with their children. The dichotomy only added to her melancholy. Somewhere in this house, Sidney was, so close, yet forever out of reach.

Esther’s feather insecurely tapped against the writing desk, on the right side an empty piece of paper, on the left Babington’s letter.

His part of the guest list was exceptionally large. She had always understood wedding breakfasts to be small affairs, so she’d assumed the long list was for church, but no, behind it she had found an even longer list of guests for the church ceremony.

She couldn’t even make a list half as long if she tried. Insignificant small town bride, with her small list of acquaintances against half of the fashionable people in London or so it appeared. All coming to see Lord Babington’s mysterious unknown bride.

They’d be sorely disappointed. She tried to swallow her nerves, but her breathing quickened every time she tried to imagine the wedding.

She would have to meet and greet _all of them_. Had she even spoken to over twenty people the past ten years?

_“My dearest Esther,_

_I have safely arrived and have informed the local clergyman of our impending nuptials. My family was quite surprised to hear about it, they wanted to know all about you. I must admit I feel torn between singing praises and keeping them in suspense. What do you think, what should I tell them? I must admit I hardly know how to describe any woman, let alone my bride._

_My mother and sister were most curious to meet you. Indeed, my sister, apparently she has returned from school already during my absence. My mother also wants to know your vision about the household. My mother was a fine mistress, and I have no doubt you will be too, she is fine with letting you run the house, but takes no issue with sharing the burden. Your ball, Miss Denham. By the time you read this letter, you shall have had the banns read as well. I must admit I was ruefully unprepared for the storm of comments. I believe I managed to surprise them, no one expected me to get married it seemed. You’ll have quite the welcome party when you arrive. I do hope I’ll be able to have some time with you._

_I also found that a later wedding date is actually beneficial. It appears I still have quite some work to sort through here, I think there’s at least a couple of weeks’ worth of paperwork, but I shan’t bore you with any particulars, as I have no doubt you are already uninterested._

_The last session in parliament shall take place on July 15th. Reading the agenda, it appears there are quite some important topics, so I shall have to leave a part of my work here unfinished and return to London. Perhaps as I’m going to London, I can still do some work with C &P. I promise you I shall make all necessary arrangements so that I’ll have plenty of time without my work requiring any of my time from August until October. _

_However, as mentioned, I still have quite a lot of work left to do. It so happens that I’ve been invited to a ball to celebrate the end of the season before everyone leaves town for the summer holiday. Perhaps you and your aunt could join me. It would delight me to spend some more time with you. However, I have no doubt that alone won’t be enough to lure you to Pretence Capitol, so perhaps you could be persuaded to use this invite to come over and do some wedding shopping. I know young ladies often find a long list of things they need to buy before their wedding though I promise I will make sure you shall receive everything you want and need._

_I meant everything I said Esther, I mean to have you happy, healthy and taken care of. I shall not make you empty promises I can’t keep. I know it is a lot for a young lady to move far away from her home and circle of acquaintances and I’ll do everything to make the transition as smooth as possible. But before said transition takes place, I know you, as a bride, have some traditional chores to do like writing invitations._

_I have included my entire guest list, I went over it with my mother and sister today, I shall post this letter tomorrow morning as soon as I can. I do not expect you to write to me, however if you do, this is my address until the 10 th of July, and this is my address in London_.

I do hope I will see you, distance might make the heart grow fonder, but I rather have you with me. Convey my kind regards to your aunt _. I will see you, hopefully soon,_

_Yours forever,_

_Lord John Babington”_

“Dear”, Esther managed to write before pausing. As formal and neutral a greeting it was, between two lovers this very word felt altogether too intimate. How would she address him? He wished her to call him John, but in a letter it was even more difficult than in person. Taking a deep breath, she penned down the two letters that would be a compromise between her feelings, and his wishes. She had thought of a reply to his letter a dozen times between now and when she first read it, however the words which had come so easily before, did not come now. Every time she lifted her pen, doubt struck her. She wanted to be herself, but at the same time she had to be his fiancée. She could not bring herself to write openly about her feelings, or write down small talk. It all felt too overwhelming.

“ _Dear J.B.,_

_I’d be surprised you’d have a hard time describing me, as you never seemed to run short of adjectives to describe and compliment me. One can always say the general things, that I am a gentleman’s daughter who is fond of dancing, especially with you, since that is how we met. They will find that incredibly romantic, without a doubt. If you are feeling particularly bold and in the mood to exaggerate, I guess you could call me a fine lady, even though I have not delivered proof of that thus far, nor do I excel in any of the fine arts that are drilled into young ladies at school, although perhaps by the time I arrive at your home my needlework may be up to standard, as your guest list ensures me enough work to practice._

_I have been working together with Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe, and up until now, we were proud to have finished twenty handkerchiefs and napkins between the three of us, it appears we’ll have to become a good deal more industrious. If you insist on having all those guests over, I am afraid to say I will not have time to see you in London, as the other two ladies and me will be too busy finishing up our work and doing the required shopping._

_Once I am done with all that work, I’ll be able to tell if I can fit in a conversation with your mother before the wedding, although I admit I have no preference about the managing of the household._

_Until London,_

_Esther Denham_.”

Two days later, Esther once again sat in a small drawing room with Charlotte and Georgiana. But this time when Georgiana sighed and moaned, Charlotte remained quiet. Something was going on with the girl, she had dark circles underneath her eyes, and her smile was always shaky.

First, Esther decided not to pry, since that was what she herself preferred. But then she remembered the night of the ball, and decided that since they were alone, she could very well ask.

‘Charlotte, I apologize for asking, but is something the matter?’

‘No, it’s fine.’

Again that shaky smile and the creased eyebrows.

‘Actually, let me rephrase that question. _What_ is the matter?’

‘Nothing, I’m just being silly. Everything is fine. It’ll be alright.’

Georgiana looked sharply at her friend.

Her eyes were becoming glassy. She was fighting a losing battle with unshed tears.

‘Sidney got engaged.’

‘Yes, I heard of that, with Mrs. Campion. Tom told my aunt all about how they were going to use her money’, Esther answered.

What did that have to do with Miss Heywood though?

The first tear escaped her left eye, a second one quickly following from the right.

She’d heard Sidney Parker had been engaged to her before, some ten years prior, Tom Parker called their reunion fate, as they now got their love, and by getting engaged they had saved Sanditon too. Esther had heard of her presence during the regatta, however, as far as she knew, that had been the first time the two of them had met in years. Could it be that in just one day, their love had rekindled after ten years? And what of Miss Heywood? She bemoaned her lack of interest in Sanditon before, because she had never payed attention to anyone aside from her own family and now she did not follow.

But if Georgiana talked of Mr. Parker’s engagement when she asked for the reason of Charlotte’s unhappiness, that must mean that either the girl had fallen in love with him, or that there had been something between the two of them which she had not noticed before.

‘He had been buttering Charlotte up for quite a while.’

‘Georgiana, drop it please’, Charlotte begged.

‘He hadn’t been buttering me up. He promised me nothing. He wasn’t pretending to be kind to me, lord knows that if he does not find reason to be kind, he won’t be’, she continued with a heart-breaking feeble laugh.

‘What is your account, Charlotte?’ Esther asked gently as she held out an unused handkerchief.

‘I- I thought he might propose on the night of the ball. But then the fire happened. And we discovered the terrace was uninsured, and then we discovered just how much debt Tom had… And, well, Sidney was sent off to London to find money anyway, despite that they had been struggling to find extra loans for over a year. He said there was nothing to be done, no one wanted to help him, and he refused to let his friends pay for his brother’s mistakes. But he knew Miss Campion was interested in him, despite that he’d sent her back to London after the regatta. There was nothing else he could have done. It was the only way.’

She was hiccupping now, struggling to catch a breath between the sobs. Esther held her hand as Georgiana threw her arms around her neck.

Esther’s heart bled for the young girl. She had really hoped she could end her stay happily. She knew just how painful heartache could be. And her experience had been with an awful man who had betrayed her multiple times and threw her away. How must it feel to be torn apart from a good man by circumstance?

‘Money’, Georgiana muttered in anger.

‘No, don’t say that. He did the only thing he could. He didn’t want to. She refused him to marry for money a decade ago and it nearly destroyed him, and now he had to do the exact same thing to keep his brother from debtor’s prison and his and Mary’s children from growing up in poverty. He chose his family. It was completely selfless. I can’t bear to hear you speak of him in such a way, Georgiana. It hurts too much. You always accuse him, but he’s one of the best men I ever met. It’s just… He makes it hard for people to see it. I don’t want to hear you speak poorly of him again, not when he sacrificed everything’, she sobbed.

The youngest girl’s jaw slackened. It was clear she had never seen her guardian through Charlotte’s eyes, and was amazed at just how different her perception was.

‘I won’t talk badly of him again, I promise.’

Esther desperately wanted to do something, but she found she could not.

‘I- I’m afraid I did not manage to become the exception to the rule this time’, she cried. Her face was red from crying.

Esther dibbed another handkerchief in her glass of water, and softly took away Charlotte’s hands from where they covered her face.

‘Oh, hush dear. Don’t think like that. I was always just saying things because I am a pessimist. This town is probably no worse than any other’, she said as she gently dabbed away Charlotte’s tears with the cool cloth.

‘I’ve seen more suffering here in three months than I’ve seen in Willingden my whole life. Perhaps Mrs. Campion was right, perhaps I am just a foolish country girl, unfit for this life.’

‘Hey, don’t talk about yourself that way. In the time you’ve been here you have made the town so much better. You came up with the idea for the regatta.’

‘And you helped save me in London and made sure my time here wasn’t absolute agony’, Georgiana added.

‘And you were the one who came up with the drawings for the terrace, and it looked amazing as long as it was standing.’

‘Those were Mr. Stringer’s drawings’, Charlotte replied, drawing a shaky breath.

‘Such a sweet and kind soul, it isn’t fair, the hand he’s being dealt.’

‘I wish I could comfort you, Charlotte. But I don’t know what to say. Only, do not make the same mistake I did, and close up your heart. Do not close yourself off from others to prevent being hurt again. That’s what I did when my parents died, and I became so isolated and lonely. And I didn’t dare to hope anymore. I told myself whenever something bad happened, that it was the only thing that could have happened, it isn’t a nice way to live.’

‘Then what do I do? I can’t, I can’t do this.’

‘I take it we’ve all been hurt in love, the three of us’, Georgiana answered.

‘And to be honest, I’m still so filled with rage and a keen sense of betrayal, I hardly know what to do with myself. Even my beloved Otis, whom I thought would never betray me, managed to sell me out. I don’t know how to trust men yet. I do find the hurt lessens, ever so slowly though.’

Esther nodded.

‘It does lessen, the hurt, but it’s slow. The first day, I though the pain would never end. It’s still there. I still feel anger, hurt, betrayal, embarrassment for feeling what I did, sadness that it had to be this way. But it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I think… having tried being idle and spending months and years mourning once, but immediately occupying myself the second time, it’s infinitely better now. Keep busy. Do things. Don’t spend whole days wasting away and making yourself miserable with thinking. Put fresh thoughts in your heads, and new memories. The first few days, I felt as if there was a hole in my life, but people are filling it up. And now there a couple of new memories which don’t include the people connected to the pain.’

Georgiana nodded.

‘That makes sense’, she answered with a sad smile. ‘When I lost my mother, I was still being taught by my private tutor, and my father insisted I continued horseback riding and playing piano, no matter how sad I was. But after my dad died I was shipped off to Sanditon, and after Otis’ betrayal I was also wasting away here locked in my room. Idleness is the enemy. There’s still plenty of time for thought even with a busy schedule, for example in the evening or the morning.’

Charlotte shook her head, all the information appeared to be to much as she was still struggling to free herself from the suffocating emotions.

Esther dipped the handkerchief again, and swiped the wet towel across Charlotte’s cheeks and forehead, wishing someone had comforted her when she was at her lowest. When she lost her father, her mother had comforted her. But when she lost her mother, she and Edward had mourned separately, occasionally hugging, but then he walked away to drown his sorrows with other men. Except, the last time, Babington had come, only she had pushed him away, and hadn’t been able to say a single thing.

If she had spoken, would she have been comforted in a similar way as Charlotte was now? Would she have her questions answered. And been supported by someone sharing their own tale of woe, so that she wouldn’t feel so alone in her grief? She had kept herself from being supported. She didn’t doubt Charlotte felt awful, but how much nicer it seemed to be to grieve this way. Even she herself felt better, just by listening to the other two women. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

‘That trip to London will come in handy’, Esther smiled. ‘At least you won’t have to share a roof with him and be confronted with what you’ve lost for some time.’

‘Yeah, think of it that way. People normally flock to the coast to escape their lives and feel better, we’ll go to town, we’ll be quite the trendsetters’, Georgiana smirked.

Charlotte couldn’t stop a small smile breaking through, before she took a shaky – but slightly steadier – breath.

‘Maybe’, she smiled before biting her lip.

‘I’m sure. I suppose I can’t ask my aunt if there’s an extra seat in the carriage for your fellow suffering creature’, Esther said with a smile.

‘Who?’

‘The one who lost his father.’

‘Oh, Mr. Stringer. He’s the one London would do most good. A permanent change of scenery, and a real occupation all await him there. It’s so disheartening that he’s going to throw it all away.’

‘Maybe we can convince him otherwise?’ Georgiana tried.

Charlotte shook her head.

‘Maybe you can offer him to explain to the architect that he’ll be needing some more time. I’m sure we can pull something off. Architects take new apprentices each season. All is not lost.’

‘I certainly hope so’, Charlotte sighed.

She wasn’t just talking about Mr. Stringer, Esther knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 ways to Sanditon prompts used: A gentleman’s daughter, Fond of dancing, Fine lady


	7. Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther pays a visit to a friend of Charlotte's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 50 ways to Sanditon challenge: Jane Austen Starter pack: prompt used: persuasion

And I've had enough, it's obvious  
And I'm getting tired of crawling all the way  
I'm not beat up by this yet  
You can't tell me to regret

**_Which Witch,_** **_Florence+ The Machine_ **

‘Can I… Help you?’

‘Yes you can, allow me entrance, I need to speak to you.’

James Stringer awkwardly shuffled backwards as Esther Denham waltzed into his home.

The young man had slept little the past week, and was confused by the commanding presence of the redheaded woman in her magnificent fine blue coat which clashed against all the shades of brown of his home.

‘You can help me’, she answered cryptically, her lips seemingly eternally conflicted between a disdainful scowl and an amused smirk.

Esther could smell an overwhelming amount of onion and carrot in the air. Her eyes looked around to locate the source of the smell before they connected with him as he was wiping his hands on his trousers. Her eyes moved from his figure to a couple of towels around the fire, the soup had boiled over, he’d been furiously scrubbing the floor and fire before she came in.

She invited herself to sit down.

She had spent quite some time thinking the past few days, and one of the things she had realized was that Charlotte could not lessen her sorrow by trandforming her love into hate like she had done. Sidney had not hurt her directly, and was not to blame for their separation. Therefor it was harder for Charlotte to let go of him and her love for him. She also had no new person in het life to focus on, in a loving way or not. There wasonly one way to lessen her sorrows. Esther could not take away the hurt, but she could keep Charlotte busy and give her hope that people could move on after a serious loss. So this Mr. Stringer and she would have to show that to Charlotte.

Of course, Mr. Stringer had been meaning to wither away in Sanditon, so that had to be remedied. She’d spent quite some time thinking, and decided she knew little of the man. But she just knew that every time she’d seen him, he’d been with Charlotte, and had been giving her the googly eyes. She hoped she had guessed correctly that Charlotte’s opinion would matter to him.

‘I’m here to keep you from doing something stupid and disappointing two people by doing so.’

He looked baffled by her statement, she took his moving but voiceless lips as a sign to continue.

‘You want to refuse the internship.’

‘You- you know?’ he finally managed to ask.

‘Yes. I caught word.’

‘So, do tell me why something you want, and will benefit both you and this town, is something you have decided to stop pursuing.’

‘I- uh.’

‘Well?’

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, she didn’t come to play games. She was indeed as ruthlessly direct as her great-aunt.

‘It just doesn’t seem right.’

‘Let me see, you sent in sketches, they considered you worthy and offered you the place. What isn’t right about going out to do something others deem you deserve? And something you clearly think you deserve as well, otherwise you hadn’t sent them.’

‘Truth be told, I’m not mighty confident about my skills. It was Miss Heywood who encouraged me.’

‘Do you think she is right?’

‘About what?’

‘Your talent?’

‘I, I don’t know.’

‘Do you think that architect was wrong when he deemed you worthy?’

‘I- my father…’

‘They’re the expert at hand, you know. I do believe they are better at estimating your value than your father. I believe he was very good at his craft, and he’s been a good reliable worker on the projects of my aunt and Mr. Parker. But he’s no architect.’

He’d been too overwhelmed to respond before. But when she started talking about his father, his face contorted. It is funny how children will constantly critique and doubt their parents as long as they are around, but grow defensive when another tries to judge them. If James Stringer was anything, it was loving and loyal, and he certainly felt strong love and loyalty to his father, his death had only endeared him more to his son.

‘Now Miss, I don’t know what brought you here, but if you come in here to downplay my father’s knowledge, I’m going to ask you to leave.’

‘I don’t downplay it. I merely came to remind you of the fact that there are multiple people who believe in you, some of who are specialists. I also want to remind you that although we would rather have the world be different, life is easier when one is wealthier and becoming an apprentice and becoming an architect ensures that you shall earn a good deal more money. By giving it up, you give up on your dreams and a better standard of living. You’ll disappoint yourself and Miss Heywood. It’s a one time chance, you want to throw away that chance?’

‘What is wrong with the way I live, my family has always lived like this’, he said repeating the words of his father.

‘There is nothing wrong with this way of life. I’m sure it shall suffice for some. But you must make the call whether you don’t want to try and be more. There’s nothing wrong with another lifestyle either, now is there? Unless you believe this lifestyle and job to be superior to any other. Just consider this: are you leading this life because it’s what you want, or because you landed into it? You’re a man with the luxury to choose his path in life.’

‘My family was always happy with it. I can choose this path out of my own choice.’

‘Are you choosing it out of your own choice, or because you feel you need to prove something?’

She was seeing right through him, and it angered him. Because he was still trying to convince himself he was fine with this life, the life of his father. If he took the apprenticeship, he threw away the kind of life he shared with his father, the lifestyle his father valued and wanted for him. He was trying to prove his loyalty and love by honouring his father’s wishes. Somehow, he told himself that if he had not quarrelled with his father, and he had been content with his life, he would have stayed with his father to finish op the terrace. He thought he could have saved his father, he didn’t know his father had already died before the fire started, and it truly plagued the youngster.

‘Why do you care? I don’t need to explain my motives to you, nor do you have any right to tell me what to do.’

‘I care because Charlotte cares. I don’t care about your motives. I’m just telling you that you are still alive on this earth with a whole life to lead. You should think about what will make the people on this earth, and yourself most importantly, happy.’

Charlotte. The mention of her name worked like magic. She could see his mind going in overdrive.

‘You do know that if you take the apprenticeship, you can still come back to Sanditon and resume your own life. You merely get the eternal opportunity to choose which life you’ll lead.’

This was not something he had considered. The surprise on his face told her. 

‘Did she send you?’

Another confirmation that she did have an influence on him. How well did these two know each other?

‘No, I came of my own accord. Me and her and Georgiana are leaving for London soon, to buy things for the wedding. She wondered whether she could pass your answer to the architect? She thought you might be convinced to ask for a delayal of the apprenticeship. Architects take new interns all the time, and they will probably understand the circumstances of the delayal and take you in the next year. She thought you might need some more time to grieve before taking it on. If you could be convinced to keep it, instead of pass along a rejection letter, which she would also carry to London for you.’

‘Buy things for the wedding? So she is engaged?’ he asked quietly. He couldn’t conceal his hurt, and Esther saw it. So there really was love there, and envy. She could use that.

‘No, it’s for my wedding. Mr. Parker… is engaged to Mrs. Campion’, Esther carefully admitted.

She saw the instant effect this piece of news had on him. His face went from wonder to rage to a very subdued form of joy. He chewed on his lip as he gazed at the table, tracing his fingers across the rough surface. She could see the wheels in his mind spinning as they tried to incorporate the information in his reasoning. Just as the frown lines started disappearing from his forehead, his eyes clouded anew. Esther was curious to know which battle was playing out inside of his head, and what thoughts were currently forming inside of his head.

And just like that, the flurry of emotions on his face stopped, and his forehead cleared up one final time.

‘She doesn’t need to pass along a rejection letter or a letter in which I ask for a delayal. She can give my letter of acceptance.’

‘Excellent’, Esther smirked.

‘You can decide what life you want, Mr. Stringer, I’m not more or less satisfied by this decision of yours, but I hope you are. Charlotte sure will be. I think she’ll pass by you before we leave. When she does, don’t tell her about our little conversation, alright?’

He didn’t understand why, but it was clear there was no denying her, so he nodded as she stood and walked towards the door.

‘Have a good day. Mr. Stringer.’

X.x.X

Before walking home, Esther decided to take a walk by the beach to delay having to face her aunt. The woman became more energetic and demanding each day, and right now she wasn’t in the mood. Once arrived at the beach she could hear the sound of little children squealing in delight and screaming with laughter. Three tiny dots ran close to the horizon, closely followed by a lithe yet busty figure with wavy brown hair and at some distance a woman with bonnet. Charlotte and Mrs. Parker.

Children. She had always assumed she’d have them, but had never really tried to imagine it. Right now the thought of a tiny time-consuming creature following her every move didn’t sound particularly enticing. She liked her privacy and peace. Luckily, she wouldn’t have to worry about it until she wanted to.

Perhaps, once she knew how her life would be, once she found a rhythm or grew a little bit older, she would change her mind. Babington had told her it was her choice, but she didn’t want his lineage to stop. That was one sacrifice she didn’t want him to make.

Her mind floated back to two days ago.

Twelve children, Miss Heywood’s parents had. She could just imagine why Charlotte was so fond of them. She probably still had a dozen tiny ones running around the house. Had she ever even known a life without children? No doubt the thought of children wasn’t as scary to her as it was to Esther, she hadn’t seen children since she was a child herself.

Shivers ran down her spine. No, never in her worst nightmares. She only had two hands!

Shaking her head she moved along. No use wasting time on children. She’d better focus on her relationship and wedding with the potential father.


	8. Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 50 ways to Sanditon prompt challenge: Jane Austen Starter Pack: Prejudice. 
> 
> Because London high society ladies have quite a bit of it, or at least they do in this chapter.

Did you break but never mend?  
Did it hurt so much you thought it was the end?  
Lose your heart but don't know when  
And no one cares, there's no one there

But did you see the flares in the sky?  
Were you blinded by the light?  
Did you feel the smoke in your eyes?  
Did you, did you?  
Did you see the sparks filled with hope?

You are not alone  
'Cause someone's out there, sending out flares  
Someone's out there, sending out flares

**The Script, _Flares_**

On the date of departure, both women invited to attend came over to the Denham household, where Charlotte shared the joyful news of Mr. Stringer’s change of heart, before they all entered the carriage. The ride was tediously long, and since three third of the company couldn’t get along, little was said. But everything remained polite during the ride and the small lunch break, before the final leg of their travel was undertaken.

The house Lady Denham had rented in London was neither small nor large, perfectly fashionable and conveniently close to all good shops, parks and the homes of some old friends of Lady Denham’s. They all took up their rooms to unpack and inform their acquaintances of their arrival in London, which they had just enough time for before dinner was served. No one called upon them that evening, not even Lord Babington, who, after parliament ended at eight, decided it was too late to call, especially since the ladies had had an exhausting day of travel.

The next day, after a late breakfast since all ladies had slept in, Lady Denham decided to receive a call from an old friend, and hinted quite aggressively that the young ladies were to take a walk or do some shopping during the entirety of the visit.

It was for this reason Esther, Charlotte and Georgiana found them in a jewellery shop admiring delicate necklaces, Grecian bracelets, and earrings with floral designs and pearls. Charlotte. The shop was established near some of the more famous shopping streets, the shop, however, predated most of those shops and tailors and thus laid happily in a quiet street not too far off. It was a favourite spot of the wives of parliamentarians, and as such, there were a couple more ladies present, most of them looking for something new to go with their outfit for the ball at the end of the season.

Charlotte was particularly drawn towards a set of pearl earrings with golden floral detailing and was currently discussing the matter with Georgiana. Esther let the girls have their little discussion and quietly walked away to admire some necklaces. The lady of the shop oversaw all, and stood at the ready in case anyone needed her advice or information about the pieces, when her eyes spotted the bright blue stone on Esther’s hand. She did not yet speak, and instead observed the redhaired lady as she let her hand slide across the glass counter, until she was certain.

‘May I look at your hand, dear? That’s such a pretty ring.’

The lady froze, but offered her hand with a tight smile.

Now the woman was certain.

‘Well, that looks just like the one my brother-in-law finished up a couple of months ago. Yes, quite like it. Mr. Stocape, come and have a look. Doesn’t this look like the ring your dear brother made? I am quite certain it is, since you don’t oftentimes see rings with stones this big.’

Her husband finished up a lady’s purchase, and came to his wife.

‘Why, yes. Yes! I sold it about a month ago to a genteel looking fellow. I was quite sorry to see it go, it’s a real beauty. My brother doesn’t often make rings with that many gems, since they are quite pricey. It laid here for almost half a year before someone bought it.’

‘You are some lucky girl, Miss, whoever bought that ring must love you a great deal.’

Esther could not stop her cheeks from running scarlet, but she lifted her chin proudly to meet their eyes. The knowledge that it was bought about a month ago shocked her. The timeline matched up with Babington’s departure for London, right before he returned to Sanditon, where he proposed only days later. She had thought his proposal rushed, not only because they hadn’t known each other long, and hardly knew each other, but also because it had come out of the blue. She was certain no man in his right mind would have considered a marriage to someone as cold and cruel as her, and decided to go through with it. She could have used kinder words than ‘hardly a sign of depth’, but had been convinced his proposal had been a spur of the moment decision. But he had bought the ring even before their walk. He _had_ given it honest thought.

‘Yes, my fiancé.’

‘I am quite glad to see it again, it looks beautiful on you’, the lady decided.

‘B.. um.. Ballington, was it not?’ the shopkeeper asked, who very much wanted to remember his customers, especially if their future wives came to the shop too. He very much hoped to become a little bit familiar with the lady in the hopes any friendliness on his side would ensure him of a new loyal customer.

‘Babington’, she corrected.

‘Ah, yes, that’s the one!’ the shopkeeper smiled.

‘Everything is to satisfaction, right? Ring not too tight or too loose? Otherwise I’ll fix it, free of charge.’

Esther wiggled her ring, despite never having had trouble before. It sat as comfortable as ever.

‘No, it was perfect, thank you.’

A lady who had been curious to see the ring the shopkeeper’s wife talked about, had grown more intrigued and agitated as their conversation wore on.

‘Babington, surely not Lord John Babington, of the House of Lords?’ she cried.

Esther looked aside, unimpressed now that her anxiety from being addressed by strangers had abided, answered the lady coolly.

‘I was not aware there were multiple Babingtons in London?’ she asked.

‘And you are?’ the woman questioned unfazed, ‘I have known him for a long time and have not yet seen you around town, Miss.’

Now, Esther was riled. For not only did somebody claim to know her husband – which very well could be true – but she also disliked what the lady was insinuating, both relating to the reliability of her character and her place in society.

‘I am not from around town. I am Miss Esther Denham, granddaughter of Sir Denham, of the baronetcy of Sanditon.’

She lifted her head. It was not really a lie. He was her grandfather, her grandfather by marriage that is. She could have just called herself a Miss Denham from Sanditon, but since the lady was acting all high and mighty, she wished to express her importance in her own right.

The woman did not make herself known, though she did appear to be surprised at the lady’s ties to the landed gentry.

‘Sanditon, I’m sure I have never heard of the place. Where does that lie?’

Now Georgiana noticed the exchange, and she and Charlotte came closer.

‘It’s an up-and-coming seaside town. My friend Lady Susan visited it just a couple of weeks ago to see the regatta. Quite a lot of fashionable Londoners attended. It’s unfortunate you haven’t heard of it’, Charlotte supplied innocently.

Esther thanked the gods for having become friends with her.

The first lady grew paler still, as it became clear that Esther was not in fact, a nobody, and her town was visited by one of London’s most famous, and the Lord Babington she claimed to know so well.

‘Well well, perhaps I should visit it with my daughters, since London’s most eligible bachelors are going hither to find themselves wives. You’ve done well, Miss Denham, and here I thought he was perfectly satisfied with _our_ ladies. You must have been quite _convincing_ to persuade him to marry, since he has refrained from marrying many _respectable_ young ladies.’

It couldn’t have been clearer that she had meant for her own daughters to seduce him. Sometimes, it is quite shocking to hear about something from someone else’s perspective. Esther had never tried to win Lord Babington’s attentions. She never thought herself particularly lucky or successful at ensnaring him. And once she started realizing he was serious about her, she had started doubting his taste. Why anyone would want her for any other reason than her looks, except for the one who had grown up with her and was as rotten as her, was beyond her. A man who did not get much attention and was not much desired had been her first guess, and her second that he was a fool with a bad taste. Given his taste in friends, one being the prince regent, the other a drunk, and the third one a broody one who succeeded in hurting every woman he got close to, she was certain he had foolish tastes in regards to company. But as she managed to bump into an angry mother who had wanted him for her own daughters upon her first visit to a random shop in London, made her doubt her first guess. Although she knew her first guess had been a bad one to begin with, for how could a wealthy lord, who had such a good disposition and such fine acquaintances, not get any attention from single females on the hunt for a husband?

‘Indeed, I have. I didn’t even need to try’, she decided with a smile, to add insult to injury, before calmly walking away.

‘I’ll be waiting outside’, Esther declared to Georgiana and Charlotte. The two nodded, as they wrapped up their discussion. Georgiana insisted she buy it for her, since Charlotte had little jewellery and none at all that she considered dressed-down enough for daytime wear. As they made their purchase, Esther left the shop.

Taking a deep breath of air on the cool summer day, Esther leaned back against the window of the shop, not minding the dirt which could besmirch her pelisse. Was this the welcome she would receive of all women? Cold greetings and bitter envious sneers? Cosy wives club indeed, this did not bide well!

She took another breath. She was flooded with embarrassment knowing that mothers had been hunting him, while she, who had neither her place in society nor kind behaviour to thank for his interest, had won him.

Another breath.

She shouldn’t have come.

A hiccup.

She would never belong.

‘Miss Denham, is that you?’

How he always managed to find her in situations like these, she did not know, but there was Lord Babington. The most important reason why many wives of parliamentarians visited this shop was due to its proximity to the Houses of Parliament, many ladies who got tired of listening to their husbands, did their shopping in this street before returning to Parliament to pick up their spouses if the meetings ended before supper.

Lord Babington, together with Mr. Crowe, crossed the street.

Taking another deep breath, Esther plastered a smile on her face.

‘How do you do, Miss Denham? I had planned on calling on you this afternoon.’

‘Fine’, she smiled politely.

‘What was up with that old hag?’ Georgiana cried as she exited the shop. Her mouth dropped when she spotted Lord Babington and Mr. Crowe, the latter profoundly entertained by the lady Sidney Parker had told him to leave alone.

‘Why? What has happened?’ Lord Babington asked, eyes searching for Esther’s. But she avoided his gaze.

‘Some woman in there, but I won’t call her lady, decided to interrogate Esther. I don’t know what prompted it’, Georgiana explained.

Edward would have merely laughed, and called the woman foolish. Babington, however, looked combative as his head snapped back towards the shop.

‘And who was this woman?’

‘She didn’t introduce herself’, Charlotte said in the absence of Esther’s reply.

Lord Babington took a step towards the shop, and this finally got a reaction out of Esther. She reached for his wrist.

‘Babington, it’s really not worth the fuzz’, she pleaded.

He correctly guessed she was talking about herself not being worth the fuzz.

‘Tell me what happened. If it is indeed nothing, I shall let it go as you wish. If you don’t tell me, I shall go in and address the woman. Miss Lambe, you will be so kind as to point her out, won’t you?’

‘Naturally’, she smirked.

Esther took a deep breath, looking at anything but the people around her, she could feel all of their eyes on her. It was exceedingly silly how they were all ready to defend her.

‘The shopkeeper and his wife recognized the ring as belonging to their shop, the shop owner tried to recall your name, and when your name fell, a woman decided to ask me a series of questions about me and how I knew you, since she claimed to know you. She could have been kinder, and had no business asking, but it’s no big deal, really’, Esther huffed as if she were unfazed.

‘She quite insinuated Esther seduced you in an improper way in Sanditon. It was clear she wanted you to marry someone from London’, Georgiana blurted.

‘Thank you, Miss Lambe, if you would be so kind?’ Babington asked while holding the door for her.

Dread pooled in Esther’s stomach.

‘Is it a bad time to tell you our dear kind friend, although the first one of us to get his temper under control, had quite a temper whenever he felt someone was done injustice? One time, he accompanied me when I went to throw eggs at the house of my old fiancée.’

‘You had a fiancée, Mr. Crowe?’ Charlotte asked in amazement.

‘Had, she cheated and I found out before the wedding. Parker and I had an awful taste in women in our early twenties.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be, she’s now married to the oaf she cheated with and last I heard she was still perfectly miserable’, he smirked.

Miss Lambe and Lord Babington exited a couple of minutes afterwards, the first grinning from ear to ear, the second one looking quite pleased.

‘Alright, let’s go’, he proposed while offering his arm to his fiancée. Esther took it, throwing the both of them inquisitive looks as they crossed the street.

‘Are you ladies interested in some ices? We were on our way to get some before we spotted you’, Mr. Crowe explained.

‘Haven’t had those in ages’, Georgiana declared passionately.

Charlotte gave a polite nod.

‘What… did happen?’ Esther asked as she looked over her shoulder before they turned a corner.

She was just in time to see the shop door open, with both the shopkeeper and the older lady exiting. 

‘Oh, we had a perfectly polite conversation’, Lord Babington smiled.

‘A polite conversation about how unpolite people really are a taint to such a lovely shop owned by such polite people, was it you said?’ Georgiana asked of Lord Babington.

‘The shopkeeper decided that anything that might scare of customers and ruin the shopping experience, was not worth keeping in his shop. I didn’t ask for anything, it was just a matter of… good business, Mr. Stocape called it.’

They continued their walk in silence. The woman had been thrown out of the shop because of her! This man had borne all her coldness, had been there for her when her brother had been out trying to ruin her reputation, and had stood up for her against her brother, and now he made sure no one would insult his future wife! Never before had anyone defended and supported her like this. She could not easily recover from the onslaught of emotions.

‘Esther, are you alright?’ he asked after some time had passed.

‘Why wouldn’t I be? All is right, is it not?’

‘You can still feel bad, that lady wasn’t kind to you.’

She rolled her eyes at that. ‘I believe I can stand an unknown person being unkind to me.’

‘Yet I hope nobody will be again.’

‘Who would dare try, with you around?’ she managed to say with a smirk.

She couldn’t even try to make their interactions anything but easy and filled with humour, they just fell into it naturally. There was no need to act, except when played for laughs, and it was becoming quite difficult to treat him coldly.

He smirked.

‘Yet, I would rather you don’t think of me as a fearsome and irksome creature, for I really am not… anymore that is. The only thing I can’t bear is when someone tries to hurt the people I care about.’

‘Perhaps that’s why that woman was so disappointed you didn’t propose to her daughters. Someone like her could use a good body guard, with the way she jumps at the opportunity to insult strangers, I don’t doubt she has a great many enemies’, Esther whispered confidentially.

Babington let out a laugh, drawing the attention of Georgiana, who walked arm in arm with Mr. Crowe and Charlotte.

Esther bit her lip, but failed to keep from smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Babington's back this chapter.
> 
> Also, I can't believe the outpouring of support I've received in the comments. Thank you so much, I'm still quite emotional so I don't quite even know how to begin responding to the support you all gave me.
> 
> To those unaware, my grandmother is currently suffering from both stage iv cancer, and covid, which she probably contracted whilst in the hospital for an operation. Since my life is a mess of uni deadlines and family worries, I won't update as regularly. My apologies.  
> Also, since I am quite distracted, do let me know if there are any grammar mistakes and typo's I've missed. I'm still not a native speaker.
> 
> Stay safe and stay inside for both your own sake and the sake of those in society with weaker immune systems.


	9. Lady Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther Denham does not know what to expect upon meeting Miss Babington, and arrives at the Babington household filled with nerves. His sister believes her brother to have made a love match, it is not a word Esther identifies with,but she does wonder if there's something between them which wasn't there before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments and wishes for good health, it means a lot. She's still not showing symptoms although her roommate died. I'm ever so slightly optimistic I might get to see and hold her again in the future <3
> 
> That said, enjoy the chapter. The times are still dark so we all deserve some feelgood fiction.
> 
> For the 50 ways to Sanditon prompt challenge: Jane Austen Starter pack, prompts used: "Such precious feelings" and "Sensibility"

Esther arrived at Lord Babington’s town house, accompanied by a quiet chaperon. Deciding the meeting of a future sister-in-law was better undertaken alone, without the addition of Charlotte and Georgiana, Lady Denham had been adamant that she take one of the servants with her, as she would still be travelling through the city alone and visiting the house of her fiancé. She didn’t know the servant, who had come along with the rented town house, and did not know how to strike up a conversation with the older woman.

They were let in by a handsome footman in a cardinal red costume, animatedly pointing out the chambers and blurting out details about the house once he heard the lady’s name. Esther listened with half an ear, quite interested in the indeed gorgeous house, as they were lead through the halls. They were filled with piano music, growing louder as they got closer to the drawing room of Lady Anne Babington. Upon closer hearing, they could now distinguish the exact tune of the piano, which ended and started a new one, accompanied by a lovely alt voice.

Esther kept the servant from knocking, not wishing to inconvenience the lady as she had just started her song. She did not want to appear disruptive during her first visit. It also provided her some extra time to mentally prepare for the meeting.

 **“** The glossy sparkle on the board,  
The wine is ruby bright,  
The reign of pleasure is restor’d,  
Of ease and fond delight.  
The day is gone, the night’s our own,  
Then let us feast the soul;  
If any care or pain remain,  
Why drown it in the bowl.

This world they say’s a world of woe,  
That I do deny;  
Can sorrow from the goblet flow?  
Or pain from beauty’s eye?  
The wise are fools, with all their rules,  
When they would joys controul:  
If life’s a pain, I say again,  
Let’s drown it in the bowl.

That time flies fast the poets sing;  
Then surely it is wise,  
In rosy wine to dip his wings,  
And seize him as he flies.  
This night is ours; then strew with flowers  
The moments as they roll:  
If any pain or care remain,  
Why drown it in the bowl.”

The servant looked for confirmation when the song came to a close, once Esther nodded, he knocked and presented Esther to the room.

Seated in a brightly-lit room with tall windows placed in even taller walls covered with pink furnishing, the two remaining Babington siblings had spent their afternoon, one located behind the grand piano, the other behind the writing desk.

There was no mistaking their connection, both had brown curls and light eyes, though Lord Babington’s eyes were closer to green, and his sister’s closer to blue. She was slim, lacking any bust, hips or other curves despite her age, although the cut of her neckline did try to create the illusion of there being some bust. She looked like the epitome of a fine English rose. It took Esther by surprise that her hair was done not very unlike her own, in an elegant updo – although hers was decorated with combs and pins – with a couple of curls tumbling down on the side of her neck. Large earrings hung from her earlobes, a cameo pendant rested between her clavicles, and two Grecian rings decorated her fingers. She looked every inch the wealthy lady.

Esther had planned her outfit well, she noted with no small amount of pride, her white dress with ruching around the collar was not very different from the white dress with puffed sleeves his sisters was wearing. 

Lord Babington jumped and walked towards her.

‘My dear, I’m so glad you made it. I hope you found our home easily?’

When she assured him she did, he asked the standard questions, before introducing her to his sister.

‘This is my darling sister, Anne. Anne, this is Miss Esther Denham. have to leave in five or so minutes, you can find out in what ways you are like and unlike after my departure.’

They sat down, and tea was asked for. Esther quickly decided Anne was neither guided by the sobriety of one with a lot of life experience, nor ruled by an excess of sensibility as was common in girls her age.

Taking place on a red chair, Esther took in the red and pink coloured furniture in the room, her eyes halting at a giant metal instrument.

‘Is that… the machine Pellegrino Turri made?’ Esther asked.

‘Yes’, Lord Babington smiled, standing up so Esther would feel comfortable standing up to inspect it as well.

She did, and walked over to it. She had read about machines like this one, and had seen a lithograph, but she didn’t think she’d see one in real life.

‘My sister uses it frequently, to capture her poetry or her songs.’

‘When I get inspired I just have to have it on paper. Sometimes a melody appears in my head, and I just have to make a song to it. If I don’t get it down immediately, the song escapes me forever. It is so much easier to read inked letters when one is playing the piano, compared to written letters’, the young lady laughed.

‘Singing, playing and composing, quite the prodigy’, Esther noted.

Anne Babington smiled, readily embracing the compliment instead of blushing like many of her age would.

‘That I practice all three doesn’t make me a prodigy, although I like to believe the time I spend honing my skills isn’t wasted.’

She looked from her brother to her future sister.

‘You are always free to use it, Miss Denham, I know the precious feelings of young love inspire like no other’, she smiled.

‘And how would you know, little one?’ Lord Babington teased.

‘Come now, brother, that is awfully unfair of you. First of all, I read a lot, so I know things. Secondly, there are many girls of my age who get married, so it is not uncommon to think about love at my age’, she defended with an innocent smile, as she tried to convince her brother that she was capable of such tender feelings, without rousing suspicions that she already had such feelings for a certain someone.

‘Tell him, Miss Denham, as a fellow woman, you too must recognize the emotional range of seventeen year old ladies’, Anne encouraged.

Unfortunately reminded of Edward, Esther withdrew her hand from the keys of the machine.

‘Yes, we do get to experience the full emotional spectrum at that age, though the more sanguine feelings like passion, love, anger and joy are not yet sufficiently counterbalanced by sense and wariness’, she smirked self-depreciatively.

The young Miss Babington pouted, stalking back towards the table but smiling widely to welcome the servants carrying in the scones, cakes and tea.

‘A human being is never done quite done maturing, which is fine, each age has its own merits’, Babington comforted his sister.

‘Are we not generally quite ready to forgive the misgivings of youth?’ he asked as he took a seat.

‘We generally forgive men for their bad acts, yes. Women though, are not as easily forgiven. We as a society can’t get enough of shaming and blaming women’, Esther pointed out.

Anne looked disturbed by this notion, as she loaded her plate with all kinds of sweets.

‘I don’t see why we do though, women have even less experience and schooling than men do, surely, if anyone is bound to make mistakes, and as such should be more readily forgiven, it is us women.’

‘Which is why I would never dream of judging you harshly for any mistakes you make, my dear one. Although I do hope that by having you learn more about society, politics and law, your education won’t make a victim out of you as easily.’

They did that?

‘Which is why I love you, brother’, Anne cried before looking at Miss Denham.

‘In a strictly platonic way, of course, he is all yours to love as a husband.’

‘I might just do that’, Esther decided with a smirk. Now was not the time to play the unaffected lover.

‘I’ll be waiting’, Lord Babington promised.

Their cups were filled, and the first bites of sweets were had, however, Esther’s eyes were glued to Lord Babington.

Did he take this as a declaration of love? Or as a promise to try and love him?

Without Anne’s notice, he winked at Esther before licking the sugar dusting off of his cake before biting down. Her insides turned. She did not know why the action felt so intimate, beside the fact that it was slightly ridiculous and childish and she was not used to seeing anyone act ridiculous and carefree.

She told herself it was not too strange an action, since he had to go to parliament and eating a sugar coated sweet was a sure way to get powdered sugar all over his coat, yet she could not stop herself from feeling flustered.

Finishing off his treat, Lord Babington wiped his hands before standing.

‘Alright, I’m afraid that’s all I’ll be having until today’s session is over. I hope it’ll be a short one today, however I doubt it, it’s the week before the summer holiday so all days are jampacked.’

It amazed Esther how Lord Babington’s conduct at home was no different than it was in public. He was as kind and as relaxed as when he was with her. He pressed a kiss to his sister’s forehead, feeling no shame in expressing his affection in front of Esther, nor did he feel any shame in pressing a short kiss to Esther’s lips before he left. This did shock her, since she was quite certain even married couples kept such acts to themselves, even when the only ones present were close family members.

No sooner had the door closed, before his sister turned to her.

‘That was _so_ romantic.’

Esther did not quite know what to respond, and as such, only threw the young girl a confused look.

‘That kiss, it has been years since I’ve seen anyone kiss, and the last time it was my parents. You can understand I did not think that quite as romantic. How does it feel, may I ask? Not that I’m particularly keen on knowing how it feels to kiss my brother, but I feel like since we are to be sisters, you are the only one I can ask such questions.’

‘You know as well as I do that ladies are not supposed to talk about that, it’s quite scandalous.’

She had not expected the proper society girl to overwhelm her with such intimate questions. Though she had to admit it was amusing.

‘Please?’

‘It was just the touching of two pairs of lips for two seconds. If anything, it was awkward since we had an onlooker.’

‘So, no sparks? No… longing and butterflies and faint-headedness?’

‘It can be like that,’ Esther admitted, ‘but not always. It depends on the circumstances.’

‘Really? In novels it is always described as such.’

‘Well, novels are idealized fantasies’, Esther noted. Fairy tales, all those romance novels were nothing but pretty fairy tales. The girl looked absolutely destroyed.

‘It is like… A hug,’ Esther decided after taking pity on the girl, ‘sometimes a family member will throw their arms around you for a couple of seconds, and technically it will count as a hug, but it does not compare to a long hug from your mother, you see?’

The girl chewed on her cheek, nodding hesitantly.

‘I guess that makes sense.’

‘And kisses are probably just like hugs in that you enjoy hugs from certain people more than those of others. Not all hugs make you feel as comfortable, cherished and comforted.’

Esther nodded.

‘Are there better kissers in the way there are better huggers? At school, my best friend gives the best of hugs, but then there’s Mary and I really avoid her hugs if I can.’

Esther laughed, shaking her head. She had really been missing out by only spending time with Edward, humankind was truly entertaining.

‘Yes, I believe there are better kissers. But I believe in the same way one can become better at, say, playing the piano, one can become a better kisser. And sometimes you enjoy hugs more when they come from a certain person, it must be the same with kisses.’

The girl nodded eagerly.

‘So, are there ways to become a better kisser?’

‘I really don’t think this is an appropriate topic, Miss Babington. If your brother finds out we will both get scolded.’

The girl smiled beautifully, looking away in shame before looking up with pleading eyes. She was doing her best to emotionally manipulate Esther, but she saw right through it.

‘For science, please, Miss Denham. I am merely curious. And my brother strongly encourages my inquisitive nature.’

‘They say that’s a dangerous thing for a woman to be.’

‘Like my brother would marry someone who actually believed that. He couldn’t love a docile woman if he tried, he was bored by all the ladies my mother presented to him.’

‘Was he now?’

Another piece of proof Babington had been a much desired husband.

‘Oh yes, actually, it was because of the pushing of my mother and many mothers in our neighbourhood that he finally fled to London. He really wasn’t in the mood to marry for a long time, he’s a contrary person. Whenever you tell him to do something, he becomes determined not to do it, and vice versa.’

She couldn’t disagree, she’d told him she wasn’t interested in him, and he had become determined to pursue her, she’d told him not to go into the shop, yet he’d done so.

‘But now, Miss Denham, or may I call you Esther please?’

Esther agreed, and the girl continued with a smile.

‘Now, dear Esther, I know it is not a suitable topic. But I can’t help my curiosity. I want to know what I can really expect, since it will not be long before suitors shall start presenting themselves. And in case anyone is agreeable enough to marry, I must not chase them away by being a poor kisser, now should I?’

‘A man might wonder how a virtuous girl becomes a good kisser.’

‘A natural prodigy?’ the girl offered with a sweet smile.

Esther took the time to finish her tea as she reflected on all the kisses she’d had. Which ones were superior? What made them better?

The young lady finished her tea as well, and went to sit on the couch, motioning for Esther to join her as she pulled up her knees in an altogether too innocent fashion for the topic they were discussing.

‘Just out of curiosity, are you thinking about any boy in particular?’

The girl paled, her eyes growing wide before she smiled widely.

‘No, I swear. No boy on my mind.’

‘But I have a condition before I tell you. You must promise to only kiss someone once you are engaged, alright? I know in novels kisses are exchanged before official engagements, but sometimes even when a lady very certain she’ll receive a proposal from her admirer, it may not come through for many reasons. Your brother might forgive you for making the mistake to trust a man’s virtue, but society won’t, and you don’t want to lose any of your reputation because of a kiss.’

Esther couldn’t help but think of Charlotte, Georgiana and herself. Charlotte was the only one who survived kissing someone unscathed. Georgiana’s reputation was quite tarnished in Sanditon, as was hers, although no one had seen either of them kissing the possibility that such actions could have taken place had been more than enough.

The girl nodded quickly.

‘Don’t eat too much garlic, or anything that may cause a bad breath. It is good sense that when you get close to someone’s face, you don’t want to have a bad breath’, Esther told her. She had not been kissed by anyone with a bad breath, but since she could easily smell the alcohol on Edward’s and Babington’s breath when she kissed them, she assumed the same would apply to food.

‘Oh, interesting. They do use quite a lot of garlic on food at balls, don’t they?’ Anne asked with a smile.

The girl played with her hair as she watched Esther with the greatest attention. She could barely believe she was having this conversation with Babington’s _little_ _sister_. Whom she had only met an hour ago. Who had looked like the poster child of chastity and propriety when she first saw her.

‘You could use your hands to hold him, nothing special, just a hand on his shoulder or his cheek. It can be a bit awkward if he’s kissing you and you aren’t responding in any way.’

‘That sounds easy enough’, the girl happily concluded.

‘I guess. No doubt men have more experience and shall know more about it than I do,’ Esther admitted. And truly, she didn’t know a lot, the exact same type of kiss could feel very different. The first kiss she’d shared with Babington hadn’t been very different from the kiss she’d had with Edward, she had pulled him in just like Edward had pulled her in, and she’d simply pressed her lips against him like Edward had done. Yet the feelings had been very different.

‘I shall let the man lead, once the moment comes, then’, the girl decided. ‘I have no doubt he shall have experience.’

She sighed, standing and walking towards the window, before turning back towards Esther, her face struck with terror.

‘But if they have more experience, they shall be all the more disappointed when they kiss us and we have little experience. Oh how dreadful! Either it’ll be awkward because neither of us knows what to do, or he’ll be amazing and be disgusted by my poor performance!’ she cried, looking way too upset for a girl who was talking about a hypothetical situation.

Youngsters, Esther remembered well the embarrassing age, everyone was dramatic at that age.

‘Didn’t we just agree that men didn’t expect a good performance from proper virtuous ladies? I also said part of the pleasure may hail from receiving a kiss from someone you care more about. If they care for you, they’ll be happy to kiss you regardless.’

‘And what if they don’t?’ she squeaked.

‘Is Lord Babington going to find a husband for you, or are you free to marry?’

‘I’m free to marry, as long as the man’s decent enough’, the girl replied.

‘Well, if you’re free to marry I take it you’ll marry for love. So you shouldn’t worry about someone being unhappy to kiss you. If they care for you, they’ll like it regardless.’

‘Will they really?’

‘I have kissed Lord Babington a couple of times now. I definitely have a personal ranking, but I wouldn’t call any of them bad’, Esther admitted, leaving out that she wasn’t quite in love with him.

The girl gave it some thought, plopping down on the seat behind her piano.

Her hand dramatically fell on a couple of keys, playing a part of a melody Esther didn’t know.

It was a strange experience, she felt as an onlooker witnessing someone else’s meltdown. She had certainly not expected this when she came by to meet his sister. She had expected a long and tense conversation over tea during which both asked the other questions to learn about each other’s interests. Instead she was immediately treated with familiarity and trust. The Babingtons trusted very easily, it appeared, and both had a penchant for honesty and humour. Although Babington clearly showed control, constraint and level-headedness Anne showed little sign of. But then Babington had admitted to being a lot wilder in his youth, back when his brother lived.

Esther certainly hoped Anne only entrusted her with these matters because her brother had vouched for her and they were soon to be family, this amount of trust and openness wouldn’t do her any good in society, she had all of Esther’s straight-forwardness, with none of the thorns Esther had to keep people from getting too close.

The girl looked up with a new shimmer in her eyes. Esther feared she had found a new topic.

‘How did you know you were in love?’

‘Me?’

The most awful question she could receive had been presented to her.

‘Yes. You really need to tell me. I was away during the entirety of your courtship. The last time I saw him was during the winter holidays. Back then he didn’t even know you! I know my brother hasn’t been as opposed to marriage as he was in his youth, but truth be told I’ve never known him to actively pursue a woman. So how did you get him to pursue you and how did you fall for him?’

‘Today was the first time I heard he was a flirt. Since the moment I met him he hasn’t stopped pursuing me. We met at a ball in Sanditon, and he called on me only a couple of days later. He was flirtatious, but not in any improper way. But you know how men are, their attentions are often short-lived, so I didn’t give him too much attention. He left for London but started writing to me, and once he returned to Sanditon, he kept on pursuing me. After some insistence, I accepted his proposal.’

The girl smiled widely. ‘That’s _so_ romantic!’

‘I love how you were like: “no, you are fickle, I shan’t be won so easily”, actually, I think that may have helped. He’s always had ladies doing their best to please him and entertain him. It must have gotten his attention when someone refused his advances.’

‘Why not take an easy wife like them?’

‘Perhaps because they were so easy to get. But personally, I think it’s because they’re all boring. It was always the same during balls in our town, all the ladies were sweet smiles, empty conversation, always agreeing with everything the men said. By all acting the same, they became dull, just imagine knowing fifty men who are all the same. Fifty sweet smiling men without any opinion or distinguishable personality traits to connect with! I believe that although we must all play a certain part when we leave our houses, we must allow some personality to seep through into our public persona’s. We are not perfect identical dolls, we are all rational and unique creatures.’

Suddenly, Babington’s speech about pretence made a lot more sense to Esther.

‘I’ve always loathed how we are expected to act a certain way. Never cared for charades.’

‘I accept that it is part of life, all the decorum, all the rules, they are in place and they do not go away. However, I very much hope to find a husband who is able to leave that behind, I want to have an authentic honest marriage. I’ve been raised freely by my parents, I cannot imagine having to comply with society’s expectations day and night once I am married. I want to be able to cry, and read and have real discussions, instead of being a matron who will only smile and address her husband with Mr.’

Esther found herself wishing for the same. Without knowing it in advance, she had gotten exactly that. She had accepted Babington once he impressed upon her he did not expect her to pretend to feel anything she didn’t, or do anything she didn’t desire, and by accepting him, she’d gotten a lifelong pass to be free within their home, in a way many women didn’t. Moreover, she didn’t have to doubt this, as he already allowed his sister the same liberty.

‘That indeed seems tedious’, Esther agreed.

‘Tedious’, the girl repeated, once again chewing her tongue. She jumped up and ran towards her typewriter.

_‘Tedious_

_The empty words_

_And meaningless smiles_

_Adrift a sea of pretence_

_I am fishing for authenticity_

_Searching that one drop in the ocean_

_And trying to catch it with bare hands’_

She looked at the paper critically before shaking her head.

‘Forget about it’, she sighed, dismissing the sheet of paper.

Esther laughed heartily at that, glad that she didn’t have to make up a false compliment.

‘Do you like poetry, Miss Denham?’

‘Depends. The longer ones telling stories are quite entertaining.’

‘Like “The Highlander and other Poems”?’ Anne asked.

Esther nodded.

‘I like those too, and, what are your favourite novels?’

It turned out they did share quite a similar taste in stories, both admitting their love for historical novels and gothic horrors.

Anne then encouraged Esther to play the piano, which Esther did while professing her displeasure. Anne agreed Esther wasn’t really good at it, but far from horrible.

‘Perhaps I call my playing horrible because the entire experience of me playing is horrible to me’, Esther declared while deliberately slamming a key too late.

Babington decided to make his presence known at that moment, having spent some time at the door to discover how his sister and fiancée were getting along.

‘You have gotten her to play, I applaud you. Many have tried and failed’, Lord Babington laughed.

Anne quickly ran over to her brother for a hug.

‘Brother, you must play with her, I insist. She declares the entire experience of playing to be horrible, but it surely cannot be horrible when you join her? Two lovers cannot dislike spending time together. Here, I already have a piece in mind, sit down and hand your coat to me. There!’

And just like that Lord Babington was placed beside her and a piece of sheet music by Carl Czerny was placed in front of them. It was a slow and easy piece and not too cheerful for her taste, Esther supposed this was Anne’s way of giving in to Esther’s distaste for playing.

Esther looked over the piece, before placing her hands on the piano. Her ring lay heavy on her ring finger, and stood out in the candlelight. Next to hers were Babington’s hands, with a large golden ring with his initial on his pinkie. She could feel the summer heat radiating of his body. He smelled of fresh air, and faintly of a perfume she hadn’t smelled on him before.

He used to smell like limes and lavender, she remembered Odd, she hadn’t even been aware she expected him to smell a certain way until he didn’t.

‘Ready, Miss Denham?’ he teased.

She looked up, boldly meeting his gaze.

‘Certainly’, she answered coolly, refusing to bow down when teased.

The first notes were hesitant, the white rectangles pressed slowly, the sound of the the keys slamming back just as loud as the notes. The note floated in front of her, confusing her as she struggled to find the keys. They played slower than was meant, but Babington adjusted to her pace. In her opinion, as far as she was able to form thoughts while she was focussed on playing the notes right, it didn’t sound bad played slowly.

Anne looked on, a smile on her face as she sat on the couch with her sketchbook, obviously trying to commit their likeness to page.

‘I’ll be getting the novel I was reading… It is in my room. Excuse my absence. I’ll also enquire when dinner will be served’, she said as she excused herself from the room.

Esther nodded, looking for the next key and pressing it. Her hands moved close to Babington’s. Which was fine, until his stopped moving, and once hers were close again, he gently laid down one of his hands on her own.

‘Esther.’

‘I thought we were playing?’ she teased silently.

‘She left us.’

‘It did not slip my notice’, she defended.

‘On purpose.’

She had feared she did so, but did not know the girl long enough to know for sure.

‘Did you have a nice afternoon?’

‘What if I didn’t?’ she threatened, lifting her chin.

‘I would be saddened, since you are both women I very much love and appreciate. However, I would call you a liar if you did. Because I listened before entering the room, and could hear you two laughing.’

‘Listening in on girls, for shame, Lord Babington’, she scowled indignantly. But both were smiling.

He brought her hands closer to him, stroking them gently.

‘You cannot blame my curiosity, it is in my interest that my family and my wife get along. If you didn’t I should have used my connection to the both of you to reconcile the two of you. However, I did not doubt you two would get along. Have you had a pleasant afternoon?’

‘Oh, perfectly entertaining, your sister proved to be quite amusing. Indeed, I had not expected your sister to be so… open. She is indeed your sister in name and character I’ve never met a girl so straightforward and straight-out brazen as yours.’

‘Brazen? My sister?’ he laughed at the notion. ‘My sweet little sister makes friends easily, but she guards herself well. I’ve never known her to be anything but the epitome of grace and subtlety.’

‘In that case I must assume that she trusted me the way she did because of our connection.’

‘Just what did she tell you?’ he laughed.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know? But no, a lady won’t tell’, Esther teased.

‘Alright, I honour you for keeping another’s secrets. But there is something I was wondering, which I have not asked you about before. It relates only to you and me, and as you said, if we mean to get rid of pretence, we need to be honest do we not? Especially now that we are to be man and wife.’

‘Alright, I’m curious to know what keeps you up at night’, she smirked, before it dawned on her how her words could be interpreted, her heart made a jump, but she did not blush. She was past the age of blushing.

‘Did you miss me, even just a little bit?’

She should have known the questions was going to come up. She knew she could answer honestly, he would not take it as a declaration of love, and would not blame her for what she was feeling, yet she still felt nervous.

She had not once thought _“I wish he was here right now”_ the past twelve days, however he had never left her thoughts.

She wished to tell him clever remarks she came up with during their time apart, and had thought back on past conversations where she wished she would have responded differently, and then there had been the memory of their kisses, which had come to her when she least expected it.

‘Perhaps a little bit’, she granted him, her chin lifted highly.

‘That makes me very happy.’

He did not tell her he had thought of her often, nor did he reaffirm his love, knowing there was no need and that the words might make her uneasy. However, he did not need to, as he gingerly lifted her hands to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he gave a soft kiss to each.

She could feel it again, the burning heat slowly spreading from her chest and climbing its way towards her limbs, bypassing her belly and staying there, melting everything on her inside. Her skin was shocked by the heat spreading underneath, and shivered as the warmth spread.

‘Could I tempt you to grant me another kiss?’ he smiled.

She opened her mouth, noticing saliva had collected beneath her tongue, she quickly swallowed it all.

She would not object. She had no reason to, he’d never been a bad kisser.

Perhaps now was a good time to reflect on what made a good kisser, she mused as he bent towards her.

His breath was fresh as he had not yet drank, and his lips were smooth and hot. She let him press his mouth against her, registering the fluctuating pressure he applied. That was not unpleasant. She responded, mimicking deliberately what she usually did naturally. She could feel his lips part. It was not a wide parting by any means, it was just a bit more relaxed. She could feel the warmer inner part of his lips now.

His hands had gone to her hair, she did like that, liked the way his thumbs massaged the sides of her face as they kissed. She could feel his teeth as he drew back slightly, before coming back to close his lips around her bottom lip.

Her heart jumped. His teeth grazed her lip before he let go. She liked that a lot.

She let her hands snake across his chest, before hooking her nails around the back of his neck. She could hear his intake of breath through his nose.

She should test that.

She drew her nails alongside his neck, his mouth opened. He enjoyed it a lot.

Time to repeat what she’d done the last time. She once again took his lip between hers, sucking it in and pulling back slightly, gently biting down on it. The moan happened again. She dug her nails deeper, and could feel the pressure of his hands on her increase.

She’d never felt this powerful when kissing Edward. She let his lips slip through. He took a deep breath, and suddenly his arms were around her.

She had not been prepared for it. And suddenly his scent and smell was everywhere around her. The exotic spices of his shaving lather, and the earthy smell of his perfume which had now become clear: amber, bergamot and moss. It blended in perfectly with the just ever so slightly noticeable scent of sweat. The lord had, just like that, become a man to her, and very much smelled like the most irresistible dandy in London.

No, they probably smelled of flowers, which was ironic given their character was so rotten, Esther smelled of flowers and patchouli, she knew. Babington sieged the kiss, but it was no display of power. Instead he touched her with such honest gentleness she all but melted in his arms. After she had all but forgotten how much time had passed, she allowed her face to rest on his shoulder. She could hear her rapidly beating heart as she tried to catch her breath.

She slowly became aware again of her environment, the piano on her side, the fading sunlight through the window, and the wall of white that was his collar and cravat, and right above that, a slim tantalizing slip of skin. She could feel the energy buzzing in her fingertips.

She lifted her head, lips pressing against the warm tender flesh. It was a pleasure to touch, even more so since she knew she shouldn’t, and definitely once she could hear him mutter her name underneath his breath. Feeling particularly bold, she opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to slip past. His skin felt clean and dry, and had no particular taste? She pressed down another kiss before coming up again.

She couldn’t see him clearly, her sight was still a bit clouded, as was his. It confused her how she had gone from being repulsed by the idea of ever being with someone else than Edward, to being driven to such wanton behaviour the second her lips touched Babington’s.

It appeared her body at least, had readily changed affections, and had done so in a most drastic way and with very decided strong feelings.

But she wasn’t yet sure of her own mind. It confused her profusely.

Anne returned, announcing when dinner would be served. She continued talking to them, but Esther was too distracted by her thoughts.

There was something about his behaviour, which before she had never given time, but somewhere along the lines he'd grown dear. And she started to wonder why she didn't see it there before. All her feelings were changing so rapidly, she couldn’t help but be a little bit alarmed. She’d never thought that it could be this way.

It was so peculiar, she guessed she should just wait and see a few days more, what that something was, that wasn’t there before.  
  


‘Esther, do you wish to prepare for the ball with me?’ Anne asked right as Esther prepared to leave.

‘Oh, I already agreed to do so with the friends I had brought from Sanditon, I apologize.’

The girl thought for a couple of seconds. ‘But could we see each other’s dresses beforehand, perhaps?’

‘Maybe you could come over to dress up with us?’ Esther suggested.

‘And leave my brother? If I do he arrives alone.’

‘That’s most kind of you Anne, but I have plenty of friends I can visit and join before the ball’, Babington smiled. ‘Indeed, perhaps I might even throw a little avant-party for my friends.’

‘It sounds lovely, but is it a smart idea? You want to reach the party with all your friends, and preferably before midnight, don’t you?’ Anne asked.

The smiles on their faces spoke of tales of late arrivals and drunken friends who did not make the parties. It spoke of memories and moments Esther had never had, yet she could not help but smile.

‘A fair point. I shall hold a very small party, and assure you to get everyone out in time so we’ll still make it for the buffet.’

Anne nodded and looked back to Esther.

‘Am I really welcome to get ready with you? I do not know the other ladies, and I do not know you very well.’

‘Well, we still have two days left to get to know one another, do we not?’ Esther asked, eliciting a smile from the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The song is called “Drown it in the Bowl”, and is not chosen by accident by Anne. The themes of the song will return in the next chapter, and honestly, it won’t even be subtle, but remembering my sister, my friends and myself as teenagers, we all loved to think we were subtle when we really weren’t. 
> 
> \- Many typewriters were created (and even patented) before the first well known patented typographer by William Burt in the late 1820’s. Not much is known about the distribution of them, but you know, it’s out there so why not include it. Babington is one of the wealthiest and well-connected character’s in the Austen-universe (although he is a complete invention by the Sanditon tv-series), if anyone could get their hands on one, it would be a wealthy, well-connected Englishman. 
> 
> \- Teaser for the next chapter: remember the people Babington mentioned a couple of chapters ago, we'll be meeting them. Time for an Austen crossover.


	10. A Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Esther still struggles to come to terms with the impending marriage and her ever changing feelings for Lord Babington, it becomes clear to her that all women around her are bad at dealing with their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someway, I’m disappointed no one picked up on the Beauty and the Beast song reference at the end of the previous chapter :p 
> 
> For the 50 ways to Sanditon challenge. Prompts used: Jane Austen Starter pack: ‘Truth universally acknowledged’, ‘Half agony, Half hope’, ‘Fools in love’, ‘Lady Susan’, 'My feelings will not be repressed'

At first I thought it was infatuation  
But, woo, it's lasted so long  
Now I find myself wanting  
To marry you and take you home, whoa

****

**_You Send Me,_ Caught A Ghost**

In a beautiful paved street, with a neat line of straight trees carrying full bouquets of lush green leaves, Esther Denham sat near a window after having finished her last wedding invitation. The ink still clung to her fingers.

One never knew of the violent emotions people experienced beneath the peaceful facades of the Grecian inspired houses. Violent was the perfect name for the storm of unnameable emotions coursing through Esther as she clung to the final letter.

After weeks of embroidering and writing, all napkins and handkerchiefs were taken care off, and all letters were written. There was nothing to be done but wait for the wedding. She had met up with the seamstress and already new dresses and undergarments had been ordered and the process of creating her wedding dress had already started.

This is it, Esther thought to herself, now I have done all I had to and there is nothing left but to hand over the letters for them to be delivered.

Her eyes went to the neat stacks of letters, all bound with ribbons to keep them together.

Her engagement could not possibly be called private, as the bans had now been read thrice. Nor had she ever felt like the engagement was not real, but never before had the realisation that her old life would soon come to an end hit her the way it did now.

In a way, the letters were the announcement of her marriage, and they carried the announcement that Esther Denham was soon to be no more. By the time she met the people she wrote to, she would be the new Lady Babington.

It was easy to spend time with Lord Babington, and indeed his sister had taken away a part of her fear about moving to his home. She knew she had little to fear, yet she could not help but feel nervous. There conversation had changed a little yet a lot during their engagement. They still teased one another, she could still play coy, but the sharpness with which she had treated him before had started to wear off. There was no use in appearing to be uninterested when one was to marry, and she could find little reason to lash out at him. She could not even pretend to dislike the liberties he took, especially since he always sought her permission.

The pace with which their interactions and her feelings changed, frightened her. Yet she knew more change was inevitable. Their dynamic would change once again once they were married, and she was only barely used to the current one.

‘Have you finished, Esther?’ Charlotte smiled.

‘Yes’, she admitted with a sigh, placing the letter on the stack.

No use to dwell, she mused.

‘You must be relieved you are finished. You’ve been working on them for so long.’

‘It passed the time’, she let out with a noncommittal huff. ‘But thanks for helping, it made it a great deal less tiresome.’

‘What do you want to do now?’

‘What do I want to do? I fail to see how my wishes have anything to do with it. Besides, I invited Babington’s sister over for tea this afternoon. I hope you won’t mind?’

‘Oh no, of course not. It is only natural you would want to spend time with your future sister.’

All openness and liveliness Esther had perceived in Lady Anne had all but vanished overnight. When she introduced the young lady to Georgiana and Charlotte she was kind but quiet. She did not have the same ready trust for those who did not bear the seal of approval of her brother. She still spoke truthfully and behaved kindly, but it took a good thirty minutes before the first opinion came out, and there was no sign that she was prepared to give the personal information she had been so eager to gift to Esther within minutes of knowing her.

However, tea was still tolerable, and by the time they met again the next day at the dressmaker’s, some of the initial awkwardness had already faded. About fifty minutes after their arrival they could hear a conversation at the front of the shop.

‘Oh, my lady, we have been expecting you.’

‘Yes, I know, I am sorry I am late to my appointment. There was something requiring my immediate attention I’m afraid. Can I still be squeezed in for a fitting? The dress needs to be done in two days, as you are aware, and I’m afraid I’m already quite busy tomorrow.’

‘Oh no, it’s absolutely fine, my lady. If you could follow me to the back? There’s four ladies wrapping up their fitting of dresses for the ball and one other wedding dress, but we will be able to help you in ten minutes.’

‘Much obliged, dear’, the female voice said kindly.

Seconds after, while Esther’s white dress was still being pinned down by the tailor, a lady in very smart clothes was being shown into the mirror room. Charlotte, Georgiana and Anne, who had finished their final fitting for their ball gowns, gasped when the lady entered.

Esther lifted her eyes from where the seams were being pinned at the bottom of her skirt.

‘Lady Susan!’ cried Charlotte.

‘Oh, Charlotte, what a delight.’

Charlotte had jumped up, and was now walking towards the woman.

‘Allow me to introduce my friends. This is Miss Georgiana Lambe, this is Miss Esther Denham and this is…’

‘Lady Anne, a delight to see you again my dear, you have grown even more beautiful since the winter holidays.’

Anne nodded. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Susan.’

All ladies exchanged courtesies and common pleasantries.

‘I was not aware you knew each other’, Lady Susan enquired.

Charlotte looked at all her friends, trying to come up with a way to connect them all.

‘Well, I met Miss Lambe and Miss Denham when I went to Sanditon, where we became good friends.’

‘And then I invited both of them to join me as I came to London for some wedding preparations’, Esther supplied.

‘And Esther was so kind as to invite me along to their dress fitting, so I had mine as well today. ‘Miss Denham is to be my sister, given she and my brother are to be married in August.’

The glimmer of curiosity that had started to sparkle when Anne called Esther by her first name, turned into fully formed interest once she heard of the engagement.

‘Oh, Lord Babington? Is it true? My, I had no idea. I did not even get a letter yet, the engagement must be quite young then. No matter, any friend of Lord Babington’s shall be a dear acquaintance of mine.’

‘The letters were only sent today, but we have been engaged since the end of June’, Esther supplied.

‘I do hope I shall be invited’, the older woman smiled. ‘Lord Babington is a good friend of my husband’s.’

‘Perhaps, if I have your surname, I could answer that question for you?’

Lady Susan gave her name, and Esther answered with a positive answer.

‘So I take it you two met in Sanditon then? I am glad to hear he found love’, she said with a polite smile, but Esther saw the look of sadness she sent to Charlotte, who looked down. She knew, Esther realized.

‘We did.’

‘I came down there, for the regatta one day. But I’m afraid I do not recall your face.’

‘I wasn’t at the regatta. My aunt wasn’t in good health and I was tending to her.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear. I hope she fares better now?’

‘She does, your ladyship.’

‘Oh, Lady Susan is fine. I am sure your future husband is sorry you missed it, no doubt it is because he was left without his lucky charm that he ended up in the water.’

‘He what?’ cried Esther and Anne in shock.

Charlotte let out a rare loud laugh.

‘During the regatta, Mr. Crowe steered their boat into another one, and they both collided with the edge. They toppled over, leaving Mr. Parker and Mr. Stringer to battle for first and second place’, Charlotte explained with a smile.

‘Mr. Crowe!’ brought Anne with surprise, ‘How did it happen?’

‘I’m afraid Mr. Crowe… Well… I really shouldn’t say’, Charlotte smiled awkwardly.

‘No need to’, huffed Esther.

‘He should really stop drinking’, Anne sighed, yet there was no anger to be found that his actions had catapulted her brother into the water, she seemed almost saddened. Perhaps she pitied her brother for having to put up with such a friend, Esther reasoned.

‘All done, my lady. Is it as you wish?’ the seamstress asked.

Esther gave the dress a long look, taking in the hemline, the waist and the sleeves. The rough work was done, they would only have to finish up the details around the neck and the decorations.

‘Yes, thank you.’

Esther changed back into her clothes. When she came back she could see Georgiana and Anne talking, while Lady Susan had a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. Lady Susan looked up, and immediately put a sweet smile on her face.

‘May I assume you are all going to the ball tomorrow?

The younger ladies all nodded.

‘Then we shall see each other there. Now, Charlotte, I shall accept your excuses for not alerting me of your arrival in London if you accept my invitation for tea sometime later this week. I extend that invitation to all of you’, she announced before departing.

‘Is it odd that I’m nervous even though I already know quite a few people who will attend already?’ asked Anne as her maid laced her stays.

‘I know I am nervous’, supplied Charlotte with a kind smile as she sat down to pull on her stockings. ‘But I am excited too.’

And the crowd would be excited to see her, Esther thought to herself, for Charlotte looked exceedingly lovely and adorable in her golden gown with her thick brown hair and big dark eyes.

‘Well, the crowd in London was always slightly better than in Sanditon, but that hardly means anything’, Georgiana sighed as she filled her goblet with wine once again.

Esther pitied the girl. Her nagging and pessimism were a lot to handle from time to time, even to Esther, but she knew that whatever wound had caused her to be this way must be grave indeed.

‘There’ll be lots of nice people, I’m sure’, Anne encouraged. ‘There always are.’

‘But will they be nice to me?’ Georgiana asked, arching her eyebrows.

It must have never been easy for her in England, no matter who hurt her in love. She would always be looked at and always treated differently.

‘I don’t wish to sound rude or mercenary, but, I’ve always… noticed… how people treated me compared to how they treated some of my friends. And I’ve seen how other people were treated as well. I believe that no matter your personality or looks, you’ll get treated with a certain measure of respect due to your wealth, which others can only receive once they show themselves worthy of it. Perhaps, if the room were to know of your wealth… You would be treated civilly if not kindly.’

‘My money…’ Georgiana looked at the wine, her grip so tight Esther feared she might shatter the glass with her strength. Charlotte took her hand, giving her friend a gentle look. The anger seeped out of her.

‘Anne, once upon a time, I believed someone cared for me in my own right, while all the world could see was the colour of my skin and the size of my purse. But I was misled. That person wanted to become even more closely acquainted because they hoped my money would benefit them. I’d rather have them hate me for my behaviour and keep their distance due to my colour, than I’d have them pretend to be nice to me for other reasons.’

‘I do not claim to know half your struggle. However, I too have your experience, Georgiana. I’ve been out for a year now, and every time a girl is kind to me or a man courts me, I wonder whether it is me they care for, or my position in society and my money. I don’t trust easily. Yet sometimes they manage to convince me and I end up deceived yet again. It has brought me to believe that everyone who approaches me is in it for a reason, and that the only people I can trust are the people who do not seek me out’, Anne answered quietly.

‘How do you know there will be nice people out there then?’ Georgiana appeared to be just as desperate for a hopeful answer, though she covered it with cold bitterness.

‘Because there will be people whom my brother likes, and I follow his judgement. Also, there’s plenty of people with a lot more money than either of us, so we need not fear they are after ours, because we can be perceived to be chasing theirs’, she smiled.

Anne lifted her hands as her emerald green dress was pulled over her. The sleeves and skirt were decorated with gorgeous golden fern patterns. Her brown curls were piled highly on top of her head, with a golden hair accessory dividing the thick curls and delicate thin braids in three levels. Esther mused that it was no wonder people tried to profit of the Grecian sculpture come alive and laden with jewellery. She screamed innocence and wealth, a horrid combination for everyone who wished to keep both qualities.

‘I think I shall still remain with all of you, and only meet men should I be asked to dance. I do not wish to seek them out.’

‘Do you not?’ Anne asked in wonder.

‘Why would I, I have no need for them. I trust women a great deal better.’

‘But surely, you must start trusting a man at a certain point. I refuse to believe that all men in the world are awful. My father, my brothers, and my brother’s current friends are to be trusted for sure. And we very much need to trust a man if we are to marry, do we not? Unless, you don’t want to marry? I… It would be fine, of course, there’s nothing wrong with that… I’ve just never met someone who didn’t want to marry’, Anne stuttered. The girl was drawing back into herself, made uncertain by Georgiana’s silence. There acquaintance was too new, she did not yet understand Georgiana, and had not enough confidence to be certain their bond could survive a decided opinion.

Esther could see the immediate reaction this had on Georgiana, who stiffened, and Charlotte, who cringed.

‘Don’t tell me you’re already looking for a husband, you’re barely seventeen. No need to start losing your heart at that age.’ Georgiana was only seventeen herself, but she seemed quite convinced.

‘Seventeen is a perfectly acceptable age to fall in love and get married.’

‘To fall in love and get married,’ Georgiana sighed while giving her a sour smile before drinking, ‘Seventeen is a perfect age to know nothing of the world or of men yet feel ready to sign away your freedom and property for the rest of your life to the first man who treats you kindly.’

Anne staggered back, the verbal lashing appeared to hit her just as hard as a physical beating.

‘You are wrong. I do know some things about the world, and while I confess it is not a lot I am not so foolish as to throw myself at the feet of a man just because he smiles and compliments me. When a man loves you, he will not abuse the power you give him.’

Esther withdrew in herself, suddenly quite occupied with putting on her blue dress.

‘Listen, you are young, and vulnerable, although you don’t strike me as a fool I wish to give you this piece of advice. Don’t allow yourself to fall for a man without being absolutely certain they can and will ask for your hand, and does so for your own benefit and not for your money. As for myself right now, I don’t care to be any man’s property.’

‘But you can’t control who you fall in love with or when. The only thing we have any control over is whether we decide to show our affections.’

‘That’s more than enough, Anne. We can’t control our emotions so indeed, deciding when or whether to show them is the only thing we can do’, Charlotte agreed.

Georgiana’s goblet was once again empty.

‘Look at us, Anne. We’ve all been fools in love. Be assured that I’m not being unnecessarily cruel for no good reason.’

‘Georgi’, pouted Charlotte, feeling that injustice was done and too much information was shared.

However, Anne surprised all three by coming to Georgiana’s side and taking her hands.

‘Georgiana, I believe we got each other wrong. I know men are dangerous, I told you before. People have tried getting close to me because of my wealth and title. I know. I’ve had my heart broken by being too trusting before. I understand your advice, and I appreciate it, truly I do, had anyone given it to me years ago, it would have spared me some heartache. But I refuse to give up my hopes of love. It is impossible that in such a great big world, there can not be a chance of someone loving me for the right reasons. However, I have found that I cannot control my heart. It feels what it wants to feel. Life would be a great deal easier, and we would all get hurt a great deal less, if we could choose whom we fall in love with. But like Charlotte said, we can’t, we can only decide whether we show them. You are free to do with your heart as you like, if you have the strength to control it, I salute you, but I cannot do the same. My feelings will not be repressed, but I shall not be ruled by them, I can govern myself. Now, let us put this all aside. We all look so beautiful, and we all deserve to have fun. Let us try our bests to enjoy ourselves.’

Esther didn’t even try to convince herself she wasn’t nervous, she was. She felt uneasy, fidgeting with the bright blue dress. She wasn’t used to wearing bright colours, and could feel people’s eyes on her, granted, they’d always been, you didn’t wear black to a ball and expect no one to look, but in Sanditon everyone had known of her. Here, she was a new face.

The only comfort that was to be taken was the presence of three other girls on her side commanding attention in their own right, and Lady Denham looking like a proper matron as she lead them into the ballroom.

She’d never been to London before, and had no idea how big the party was going to be, so when, after walking through a normal-sized hallway, she ended up on top of a staircase with a footman asking her name to present her a big… large… no, ginormous ballroom completely filled with people. She couldn’t distinguish a single head.

Her answer was given by Lady Denham, and in quick succession all girls were named and sent walking down.

All the eyes… Just like all had stared at her when Edward had begged her to confirm her love. Why were they looking? What were they thinking? Had her brother gone to London after he was sent away and did some of these people now know her name and shame?

‘Brother!’

‘Dear sister.’

The sound was muted as Lady Denham who had walked in front of her disappeared, and she was instead treated to the sight of Lord Babington and Mr. Crowe.

‘Miss Denham’, he greeted, taking her hand and pressing a kiss onto it. One face she knew, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. As relief flooded her nervous system, the sounds and visuals became sharp again.

‘You look as beautiful as usual.’

‘Oh, and here I thought the additional work I put in would be appreciated’, she answered easily.

‘I admire it greatly, yet, you are not more or less beautiful. But I appreciate the work, your hair looks stunning.

‘And you have found a new suit?’ Esther asked as she gave his suit a look.

‘I hope you approve of it’, he smiled.

‘Oh, I hardly think you need my approval, Lord Babington.’

‘I don’t, but I desire it.’

‘You’re particularly smooth today’, Esther noted with amusement.

‘perhaps one day I shall match up with my future wife’s wit.’

‘What a frightful day.’

He laughed heartily and turned back towards his friend, who was making easy conversation with a smiling Charlotte and Anne, and a scowling Georgiana.

‘I didn’t know Mr. Crowe sat in parliament’, Esther wondered as she considered how the man got on the guest list.

‘He doesn’t, but he’s in a political group with some members of the Lower House, they saw it fit to invite him.’

When Esther raised an eyebrow, Lord Babington provided the piece of information he’d withheld to keep her interested.

‘He writes their speeches.’

‘Does he?’

‘Yes indeed, and sometimes these speeches may very well be three to five hours long.’

‘And he writes that? But he’s a…’

‘He doesn’t appear to be very interested, yes. He likes to pretend he cares about nothing, he enjoys being nothing but contrary and amusing.’

Esther nodded as they watched Mr. Crowe greet and beckon a ginger and a dark haired man and their wives. A third man stopped and paused near them, with wild dark curls and a gorgeous red haired woman on his side. Her hair was even more red, curling and beautiful than Esther’s.

‘I see. He appears to be well liked.’

‘He isn’t though’, Babington admitted and his smile faltered. ‘He’s seen by most as a radical libertine, they take his banter at face value, and he doesn’t have the most careful tongue when discussing politics.’

‘A libertine?’

It didn’t surprise her, she would have carelessly flung the word out to describe him as well, and she knew Lord Babington had in fact had wilder years behind him and had probably quite some more lively friends, yet to have a bunch of politicians use the word to describe Mr. Crowe gave it another meaning.

‘Crowe shares many views with Sidney and me, but he has no cares for his image and feels no need to temper his views, even though that would get more people to listen to him.’

Babington sighed.

Esther was slowly getting to understand their friendship. Friends since a long time, partners in business, sharing similar views, having gone through their wild phase together. In his eyes, Mr. Crowe must be very much like him but someway young and less mature, and he could see the talents and character traits hiding beneath a quick temper and trouble with liquor that went without check due to a lack of family members and a wife.

‘I take it we should start practicing our sociability’, Esther suggested.

‘Yes, we should, forgive me, I was absorbed in thought. I cannot keep you all to myself’, lord Babington smiled before presenting her to the young people who had joined Mr. Crowe and the ladies.

‘Ah, how lovely to see you all. Allow me to present to you my fiancée, Miss Denham. Miss Denham, these fine people are Mr. and Mrs. Bingley’, Lord Babington explained as he presented her to a smiling ginger man and his sweet looking wife. Esther nodded, her eyes already fixing on the next couple.

‘These are Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Darcy.’ The couple was dressed simply, but their wealth spoke through the quality and cut of their clothing and the dignified and graceful way with which they carried themselves. The wife was an easy laugher, she had observed before, the man anything but.

‘And these are Captain Poldark and his wife Mrs. Poldark.’

The woman appeared to be a good deal younger than her husband, though both looked lively and animated. Actually, they all did, Esther found as they entered conversation, and each couple appeared to be very close and very in love in their own ways.

She was following the conversation, trying to form an opinion on all of them while still pretending to be vaguely interested. Although there was no need to pretend once Mr. Crowe, after a discussion on slavery, gave up on serious discussion, though with a severe expression brought his next teasing statement.

‘A man has no master, a man needs no master.’

It had managed to impress Georgiana, who was now growing less surprised by his earlier interest and treatment of her at the first ball in Sanditon after he had finished dancing with Clara. However, she could not let the moment slip by without showing some sharpness of her own.

‘Funny that men don’t, yet women do. Talk about abolishing slavery and demanding equality as much as you wish, Mr. Crowe, yet your country makes women nothing but objects to possess. Women always have a master above them. Of both genders, which one has the ability to cause the most trouble though? A man or a woman?’

All laughed, as it was fair to point out that men, were by law allowed to do far more than women, and could thus do most harm when left without a master. Mr. Crowe appeared to be very entertained by Georgiana. A tear rolled across Demelza’s cheek as she howled with laughter.

‘Tis a truth ee speaks’, laughed Demelza.

‘A man’s master is his education. If you are educated properly you have no need for one, which is why most men committing crimes are poor. Since women have no way of getting an education or gaining a lot of experience in this world, having them be governed by a family member is a necessary evil’, Crowe said.

‘As if an education directly leads to being smart. Tis nonsense, a man can disregard what he learns and experiences and be dumb’, Demelza defended.

‘I myself have to admit I did many a stupid thing and it was by no means caused by a lack of education. Meanwhile I learned a great deal from a woman who had neither education nor a great deal of experience’, Captain Poldark defended.

‘I believe I understand where you come from, Mr. Crowe, but is it because a man knows right from wrong that he will do so? For some it will, for some it won’t’, Charlotte smiled.

‘But that’s on him if he chooses to ignore his knowledge, and when he goes too far, the law is there to punish him’, Crowe smiled easily.

‘I’ve had to sit away some days for being stupid, and I will not pretend I didn’t earn each day for I knew the law, and I knew what was right and ignored it all the same. I do not need someone telling me what I can and can’t do, the law will punish me if I overstep.’

‘How about we wage no war and accept that both need masters. I shall allow a man to govern the world, when men allow women to govern the home, as they are born to do’, said Anne. ‘After all, what’s the harm in someone trying to keep you from prison. There are so many better ways to spend your day, Mr. Crowe’, Anne smiled sweetly.

‘I am at a disadvantage. My hypocrisy has been pointed out. I would vote for equality yet refuse to see the value of equality for all in my own country, very well, Miss Lambe, you have me. And my teasing argument about why a man is allowed to govern himself has been deconstructed by the Poldarks and Miss Heywood. I find myself driven into a corner by too many a clever woman. You’d do well governing me, ladies, as apparently I can do useful things with my day if I don’t waste them on ignoring my sense’, Mr. Crowe laughed.

‘However, I am not governed yet by anyone but the law, so I shall abuse that freedom to fetch myself a drink. Somehow I doubt, once I let a woman rule my house, I shall be free to drink as I wish. Perhaps she too might see some potential wasted with my most beloved pastime, like Lady Anne.’

Lady Anne’s smile faltered as Mr. Crowe walked away.

‘A great deal of clever words were wasted on him. He is not yet ready to hear them, and I’m afraid he shall only defend his bachelorhood all the stronger now that he is surrounded by so many couples’, Mrs. Darcy laughed.

‘I fear I cannot understand him, there is no greater delight than being governed by one’s wife. I shall be the first to admit that most ladies are a great deal more clever and sensible, I wouldn’t know what to do without my wife’, Mr. Bingley laughed.

‘Did you feel the same way before getting married?’ Georgiana asked.

‘Oh, to be sure, I once heard Mr. Bingley quite eloquently defended how almost all ladies were quite accomplished’, Mrs. Darcy smiled.

‘I was always on the look out for a wife, luck blessed me that I was given the best one I could hope for before I was even half past my twenties’, Mr. Bingley explained.

‘Our mother always said that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man must be in want of a wife.’

Esther had heard a similar thing too, only slightly altered. She wondered if Mrs. Darcy had simply been taught a different version, or if she had cleverly let out a certain part to avoid appearing like a fortune huntress.

‘You’ll find Mr. Crowe to be a worthy test of that statement, Mrs. Darcy. I think he will be one tough fish to bait’, laughed Captain Poldark.

‘I heard it once said that a woman likes to be crossed in love a little, every now and then’, Mr. Darcy supplied.

‘A smooth sea never made a sailor’, Lord Babington said. Esther froze. She knew he was talking about her now.

‘As a captain, and one whose wife had to struggle to tame me quite a bit before I saw reason, I must agree’, laughed Ross Poldark.

‘I wouldn’t have complained if the sea were a bit more smooth’, Demelza smirked while throwing her husband a fond look.

A man came up to their group and asked for Anne’s hand, she accepted without even looking at her book or him and was off before Mr. Crowe returned.

The conversation changed, and instead the topic of London was introduced, since all were interested what the young ladies thought of it. Esther and Charlotte supplied a couple of general nice and entertaining remarks, before the others felt like enough had been said for them to join in on stating their opinions.

‘I’m not very fond of London, alas, since Mr. Darcy keeps getting all these invites it appears I have little say in the matter, luckily Jane is always here to support me. She’s an absolute saint. She has the patience of an angel, I don’t know how she puts up with all the empty chatter and nasty gossip’, Mrs. Darcy smiled, causing the blonde woman to blush.

Esther finally understood why Mrs. Darcy had said ‘our mother’ some time ago. She and Mrs. Bingley had been sisters prior to their weddings.

‘I thought you liked dancing though, Mrs. Darcy? So surely, an invite to a ball is not unwelcome’, asked Lord Babington.

‘Oh, I do. Back home in Meryton I loved going to balls, even public ones, I do not discriminate. Unfortunately people in London make a great deal of seeing and being seen instead of dancing. I cannot imagine a more dreadful thing than being near a dance floor and instead of enjoying oneself, wasting away the night playing games while overthinking the looks everyone is giving me.’

‘You would not make a very good politician’, laughed Lord Babington.

‘Oh I wouldn’t, but that is absolutely fine. I’m not big on politics, if I could have a job like a man, I would much prefer to be a scholar. Those men don’t waste their time playing games.’

‘You say all politicians play games?’ asked Esther.

‘Well, all men do. The world’s a stage, and we are all players, but some do so more than others. Politicians need to appease, and please, they get manipulated and they manipulate, all to get their way in parliament. It is a requirement of their job to play games, so they cannot be insulted when I point out they do.’

Lord Babington laughed, but nodded.

‘It is true, I won’t deny it, though it is one of the less pleasurable aspects of the job, in my personal opinion.’

‘What is one of the more pleasurable aspects of your job?’ she asked.

‘Meeting people, making friends, and being invited to balls where I can dance with my lovely fiancée.’

‘Ah, a man of taste’, Mrs. Darcy cried.

However, Lord Babington’s attentions were lost, as they were now all directed at his fiancée.

‘I believe we have done the required socializing, do you wish to dance?’

‘I do’, she admitted fully.

He took her hand and guided her to the floor.

‘Do you think you’ll be able to get along with them? You can say so if you don’t’, Babington asked as they took their position.

‘I did not expect them to be like this’, Esther admitted.

‘In a good way or a bad way? You were very quiet’, he teased as they started their dance.

They had all been so liberal, sharing his sense of humour, and all the wives were so free and unbothered and in love. She had never before seen so many couples, and so happy. The women were even allowed to poke fun at other men and their own husbands. She’d never thought Babington would make empty promises, but the freedoms he had promised to grant her were now believable now she could see his friends granting them to their own wives.

Somewhere along the line, the question had shifted from whether she would be able to function with Lord Babington, to how she would function in his world. She had never been able to envision herself as his wife, she couldn’t believe someone like herself could be with someone like him, someone so below him and different from him. Yet, now she had met some of his friends and their wives, she started considering that maybe, it was possible.

Mrs. Poldark’s accent and slip-ups gave away that she had definitely not grown up in polite society, and although Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley appeared to be real ladies, from what she’d gathered it had become clear that prior to their marriage they had not grown up with the same amount of wealth as their husbands. Love matches, all his friends had love matches, despite that such a thing was rare to people of his standing; Granted, his friends were no peers, but they too possessed grand amounts of wealth.

Perhaps, by seeing such exemplary marriages every day, it was no wonder he had promised her he wouldn’t lead her or constrain her, for all his friends seemed quite happy allowing their wives to be as they were.

‘I believe I can learn to like them’, she answered with a smirk.

‘Can you now?’ he laughed. ‘I’m glad.’

As they danced Esther couldn’t help but keep an eye out for her new friends. Charlotte, Georgiana and Anne were regularly asked to dance with people she didn’t know, and some of the husbands she’d met before.

From time to time as Lord Babington introduced her to some other people he knew, she could see them laughing or talking on the side by themselves or with some of their group of acquaintances and Lady Susan and her husband.

But between nipping glasses of sparkling wine, being presented to people, and being danced around the room by Lord Babington, she found herself checking in on them less and less. And so, by the time the buffet was finally announced and they had all sat down, Esther was taken by surprise when right after a certain clever joke of Miss Heywood, Anne excused herself. She was polite enough about it, and exercised proper constraint when walking away, but the look in her eyes was enough to alarm both her brother and his fiancée.

Lord Babington looked worried but conflicted, and none of the other ladies were acquainted enough or close enough to her to check in on her.

‘I’ll go’, she announced to Lord Babington.

‘I can go too?’

‘If you want, but I feel like perhaps it’s better if a woman asks?’

For a brief second she had a hunch he was about to kiss her, but it flew by and he ushered her away.

It wasn’t hard to find her, sitting on a sofa in an abandoned sitting room, knees drawn up and face hidden between her skirts.

‘What’s the matter?’ Esther asked as she closed and locked the door behind them.

‘Oh, oh Esther, you needn’t have come. Oh dear, I didn’t make a scene, did I?’ she asked while she pushed herself upright and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

‘No, but we had a hunch something might be going on.’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Is it?’

‘I can’t tell you, you’ll think me a fool, no doubt.’

‘Why don’t you tell me instead of making assumptions?’ Esther suggested.

‘I’m blowing this out of proportion. There’s really no need. Getting attention only makes me feel like more of a fool for feeling the way that I do.’

‘Listen, I know I’ve told you little about myself and I know we don’t know each other very well. But if you need my shoulder, or my hand, or a hug, you’ll have it.’

She remembered well how not even a full month ago she’d been the one crying in a room not very unlike this one, feeling very much like a fool and feeling even more shame when Georgiana and Charlotte had come in to support her. She’d needed support then, she knew how awful it was to feel alone, and from the little she knew of the girl, she knew she was used to getting a lot of support and love and would without a doubt have even more need of comforting than Esther.’

‘Miss Lambe,’ Anne breathed while taking the time to steady herself, ‘was right this afternoon.’

Esther blinked. Feeling a stab of frustration.

‘Do correct me if I’m wrong, _Lady Anne_ , but did you not say there was no boy on your mind a mere three days ago?’ Esther asked coldly.

‘It wasn’t a lie. Not technically’, she stuttered.

But Esther was triggered by the lies that came so soon after she had started considering to trust Lord Babington’s sister.

‘There already was someone when you told me there wasn’t anyone. And it was someone you considered kissing. And this very afternoon when Georgiana tried to warn you and you so nobly took up the cause of defending the will of the heart, you had already lost your own to a flight of fancy. Indeed, I see it now. You have fallen in love with someone who you cannot be together with… No, you’ve fallen in love with someone who doesn’t want to be with you and you asked me the questions you did because you were trying to gain information on how to seduce them’, Esther deduced based on the ever increasing shade of red on Anne’s face and the movement of her mouth as she went through a range of emotions upon hearing Esther’s theory.

‘Why are you so _cruel_?’ Anne spat.’

‘Why did you _lie_!’ cried Esther.

‘Because I felt like I couldn’t tell the truth! And I can’t because you’re right. I’m in love and I’m in agony. If I could close off my heart I would! Yet, perhaps I am a stupid seventeen year old fool because I can’t keep myself from hoping he will one day notice me despite that it’s clear I’m not his type. I’m not nearly lively, interesting or funny enough for him. It’s so clear he favours others, yet my heart just doesn’t take the hint. It won’t stop hoping that one day he’ll come around.’

The last sentence took all the anger out of her.

Edward.

Instantly all the feelings of shame, worthlessness, self-loathing and the endless cycle of broken trust and hope came back to her.

‘I understand.’

‘I don’t think you do’, she moaned as she crumpled back into the couch.

‘Better than you think. But since you’ve hurt my trust I won’t tell you yet. However, I’ll forgive you if you make up for it with honesty.’

‘It’s stupid, I don’t even know how it began. One day, it’s just… I came home for the summer and he was… Him, looking all handsome. But I know many handsome men, so that isn’t it. It would of course be something if his manners were up to standards, but he can never be more than pleasant since he’s decided against being a gentleman. He really only has his character going for him. If it wasn’t that I knew just how clever and funny he could be, or how much integrity and honesty he possesses, I’d never even understand what anyone would ever see in him and…’

‘Oh gods’, Esther sighed, as she understood the direction she was heading.

‘I know’, cried Anne.

‘So please, if you think you know, do tell me how I can put an end to this. _Please_.’

‘He could have kept on hurting me by choosing others and himself over me, it was only distance that helped. Distance and time.’

‘But I’ve tried distance and time, a sea of distance and months of time! I know it is wicked of me. After all, I can’t blame him. He’s a free man and Miss Heywood is such a lovely and clever and funny lady, and that’s without taking her beauty into account’, Anne sobbed.

‘Anne’, Esther tried, but the girl was completely lost to the fabrications of her own mind.

‘And he seems so fond of Miss Lambe as well. She claims she wouldn’t become someone’s property, but I dare say despite his words he wouldn’t dare govern her and – ‘

‘I can’t tell you to forget about him, but please stop torturing yourself by thinking you’ll never measure up. It’s not about you. It’s about him. You could do anything to get his attentions and that still won’t ensure you he’ll look at you. Look, you’re clever, artistic and sweet in your own right. Don’t change that to become what you think he likes. What pleasure shall it give you to have him love you for something you are not?’

‘I’m not planning on changing myself, I’m only saddened that I’m not what he wants. You would do well to remember that I told you before I would not act on my feelings, that’s both in regard to making my affections known and in regards to changing myself to be what he seeks for.’

Esther nodded. That made her a great deal mor wise than she herself had been at that age, pushing herself to a point she wasn’t comfortable with just to get Edward’s attention. And she knew she herself did not take kindly to having rivals in love.

The girl wiped her hands across her dry cheeks one final time before standing up.

‘We better go back before people will start getting worried.’

‘Your brother already is’, Esther noted dryly as they left the room.

‘Of course’, she sighed. ‘But you will keep my secret, won’t you?’

Esther gave her a look and took a deep breath.

‘What shall we tell him if he asks?’

‘The truth, I’ve slept little last night, and I have my flow and am quite emotional.’

Esther blanched, she had not expected such candour.

‘You honestly expect me to tell that?’

‘No, you can tell him I’m emotional because of certain womanly problems. If he’s not convinced you can send him to me. Will you, please? I promise it’ll be the last lie you’ll hear from me, and the last lie I’ll evert expect you to tell.’

‘Fine’, Esther agreed.

They were just in time for desert, and the excuse was quickly accepted by Lord Babington.

After dinner, Esther looked at the interactions between Charlotte, Georgiana and Mr. Crowe with new eyes, but could detect nothing that went beyond common politeness and friendly conversation, although Mr. Crowe was quite flirtatious in nature.

She didn’t get a lot of opportunities to study them though, as Lord Babington took her to the dance floor once again.

‘You appear thoroughly distracted and occupied this evening.’

‘Well I do have a thing or two taking up a part of my attention’, Esther smirked.

‘Do you now. I see I am not interesting enough.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘Come on, slighted already, you should be used to me not giving you the attention you deserve.’

‘The attention I deserve?’

‘I shouldn’t have said that, now, without a doubt, your ego shall grow and become hideously large.’

‘Oh yes, I believe I already feel the growing tenseness as my neck is constricted by my cravat.’

‘You shall have to put up with it for a few additional hours I’m afraid’, she answered in amusement.

‘I could always return home early.’

‘Would you?’

‘And part with you? Heavens no.’

‘No doubt that in a month, you shall be just as discouraged to return home when returning means reuniting with me.’

He faltered in his steps, and they collided most inelegantly.

‘Esther, I don’t know in how many more ways I can convince you that I desire you. You have no idea how eager I’d be to return home to you. If you’ll allow me, I’ll show you just how much I wouldn’t mind being home with you at night, instead of out at a ball with some friends. I’ve spent years doing that. If I wanted my life to continue as it had before, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me. I want to be a husband.’

‘It was but a joke’, she responded with a nervous smile, but she could not easily recover from his words, and cowered from the intensity of his gaze.

‘I’m not joking.’

She chanced to look up again, and could feel herself heating up underneath the intensity of his gaze.

‘Say I’d allow you’, she began, but the next words halted in her mouth when she saw his gaze. She swallowed, her eyes sliding down his soft green coat.

‘I would be most delighted’, he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Her hand balled around some of the soft velvet fabric as she forced herself to lower her shoulders and look up coolly.

‘Good’, she decided, raising her eyebrows coquettishly.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m hot, I’ll be looking for some punch’, she smiled seductively before taking off.

Feeling like she’d narrowly escaped catching flame, she took her time walking over to the room where all the bowls of punch stood. Opting for a light berry one she was lured to a room from which she heard a familiar tune and voice.

It was Anne, playing the song she’d heard her play before they were first introduced.

The girl beamed at her when she noticed her entering. The room was mostly filled with other young girls, each eager to listen and play. Another girl sat beside Anne, clearly a friend. However there were a few men in the room as well, playing games in the corner.

Her eye fell on a head of thick curls. He was quite distracted, she could even get a perfect view of his cards as he was too absorbed stealing glances at the person behind the piano.

_“That time flies fast the poets sing;_   
_Then surely it is wise,_   
_In rosy wine to dip his wings,_   
_And seize him as he flies._   
_This night is ours; then strew with flowers_   
_The moments as they roll:_   
_If any pain or care remain,_   
_Why drown it in the bowl.”_

Anne looked his way for a brief four seconds, before decidedly turning away and whispering with her friend. As such, she missed how he looked away miserably, knocking back the entirety of his full glass of punch before he filled it up again with punch from the bowl standing on a small table beside the cards table.

Fools in love, Esther mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of difficulty writing this chapter, it's quite a beast. I've thrown them all in situations they're uncomfortable with, with people they don't know or feel too much for so I could get the plot moving. I won't be able to tie things up neatly before the wedding, but that's life. 
> 
> As for Crowe, so yeah, we know that in the show he expressed continuous interest in Charlotte, and even admitted to being interested in Georgiana, but well, Charlotte was dibbed by Sidney and he told Crowe to get his hands off of Georgiana too, so I kind of played with his interest here now that Sidney's away and engaged.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed nonetheless. I'm doing fine-ish myself and I hope you're all doing well too.  
> In the words of Mr. Darcy "I hope your family is in good health", take care of yourselves and hang on in there :)


	11. An unfortunate event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a day filled with laughter, disaster strikes, affecting all as new information comes to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 50 ways to Sanditon challenge, prompt used of the Jane Austen Starter Pack: "Not handsome enough to tempt me"

If there's a prize for rotten judgement  
I guess I've already won that  
No man is worth the aggravation  
That's ancient history, been there, done that!

No chance, no way  
I won't say it, no, no

It's too cliche  
I won't say I'm in love

You keep on denying  
Who you are and how you're feeling  
Baby, we're not buying  
Hon, we saw ya hit the ceiling  
Face it like a grown-up  
When ya gonna own up  
That ya got, got, got it bad

**_I won't say I'm in love_ , Susan Egan**

Two days after the ball, Charlotte, Georgiana and Esther had been invited over by Lady Anne for some boules, nine pins and shuttlecock. The afternoon had been most pleasant, although the heat had required regular breaks between playing. They’d first arrived in day dresses with their bonnets, but the bonnets had been disregard fairly quickly since they obscured the vision, and by four in the afternoon, all had shrugged off their spencer’s. They knew they shouldn’t, but with Esther engaged, and the other three not having their eyes set on anyone, they didn’t care a lot about becoming darker or more freckled, and questioned the damage one afternoon could do.

Esther had been uneasy at first, being almost a full decade older than the others and always having lived a less carefree life. The young ladies had no problem skipping across the grass and hopping over flowerbeds, but in the end, after some drinks and some easy laughter, even Esther managed to participate with a smile.

They’d shared their supper after having ended their afternoon of sporting, the visiting ladies too exhausted to immediately travel back home and quite enjoying their discussions. Lord Babington had left the house before they had even arrived, as he had arranged to meet up with some friends that day, but it appeared the master of the house had decided to retire early, since they could hear quite some ruckus before the clock had struck ten that evening.

They could hear something shatter, followed by a curse.

All ladies rushed out of the drawing room to find the source of the commotion. It proved to be the master of the house himself, supporting one very tall gentleman, who was on his other side flanked by a servant. They had just hit a vase which had stood beside the door.

No one had a hard time guessing what brought these men to make the noise they did. The lady of the house, thoroughly shocked, could barely keep her mouth closed when taking in the stumbling men.

‘What is the meaning of this?!’ Anne cried, voice filled with worry.

‘Nothing too bad, dear. Just some trouble holding his liquor, is all. Our house was the closest to Brooks’s so I brought him here, but no worry, I’ll see to it that he’ll be placed in a remote bedroom well out of your sight and ear range’, Lord Babington promised.

Lord Babington summoned a servant to task the cook to prepare something spicy with a lot of tomatoes. He started escorting him to an unknown destination.

‘That will make him retch!’ Charlotte brought out in shock, knowing how that would irritate the stomach.

‘That will serve him well in the long run. It shall get all the bad out of his system. Don’t worry Miss Heywood, I know what I am talking about’, he laughed as he started to lead his friend to the kitchens.

The ladies immediately descended on the poor servant.

‘Could you help us understand sir, we all know… We are all familiar with Mr. Crowe, but it isn’t like him to have to be escorted home. This has never happened before. Do you have any idea as to what has transpired?’ Anne enquired delicately.

‘To be fair, ma’am, I don’t quite know how it happened. The gentlemen are regulars. They all had a few drinks but he appeared to be right as rain last I saw him, next I knew I was asked to help support the gentleman. It was quite like the light had gone out, no balance at all, constantly tripping, couldn’t even tell how many fingers his friend raised, complaining about a headache and the light. I wouldn’t worry about it though, ma’am, I have seen many gentlemen in such a state during my years of service and they always recover’, he explained calmly.

Esther could see the effect the news had on Lady Anne, as her white fingers were clenched around a piece of her skirts, but her face gave nothing away. She was surprised how the young woman could be both so open and so discreet. She thought of how she’d been when she heard talk of Edward flirting with some girl or another, or gambling away a part of their monthly allowance. She remembered well the disappointment and the sadness that came along with hearing of someone you loved doing something foolish.

‘Thank you for your comforting words, you’re free to leave. We will take care of it from here on’, she excused the butler and turned back towards the other ladies.

‘Perhaps it is time we retire. I don’t believe the mood of the evening shall be recovered’, she smiled sweetly as she lead Charlotte, Georgiana and Esther back to drawing room.

By focussing on Anne, Esther did not see Charlotte’s brow furrowing, or the way her eyes immediately shot to Lord Babington once he entered the room.

‘Where have you placed Mr. Crowe, brother?’ asked Anne.

‘Oh, I brought him to the kitchens, but he wanted to go outside to catch some air.’

Anne nodded in a sweet manner.

‘Lord Babington, the servant just told us about what happened. I’m curious to know your account’, Charlotte begged.

‘My- my account… of the night?’

‘He just told us Mr. Crowe went from being fine to being in need of support. I don’t know how many hours passed between when he last saw him and when you approached him with Mr. Crowe, but do you know whether Mr. Crowe drank a lot in the meantime?’ Charlotte asked intently.

Anne excused herself from the company with all manners of a sensible shy girl excusing herself for the natural reasons.

‘I umm… I was playing cribbage at the time so I didn’t pay a lot of attention to him I’m afraid. I do remember he was playing at a nearby table, some arm-wrestling I believe, when I heard a loud crash and suddenly the poor fellow was on the ground, he looked to be quite out of it but he recovered quickly.’

‘The ground?’ asked Charlotte, ‘I suppose it could not be so that he was thrown to the ground by his opponent?’ she pushed.

‘Well, actually, I suppose that might very well be possib- Miss Heywood?’

Charlotte was now standing near the door.

‘Excuse me, but… I fear your friend might have a concussion. All the symptoms of a concussion match. As the servant said, he appeared to be fine one instant, and as we all know, he is used to drinking. The next, he is dazed, his vision blurry, complains about a headache and lights… And then there’s his loss of balance, the confusion and near loss of conscious to take into account. I believe the only symptoms I haven’t heard of which I have previously seen when men fell off their horses in my village, are vomiting and slurred speech.’

Lord Babington perked up. ‘He has those as well. Dear god. What should we do?’

‘Send for a doctor, if possible’, Charlotte suggested. ‘And I don’t believe spicy food will do him any good, given the circumstances.’

‘Very well, yes, clear thinking Miss Heywood. Thank you. I would not have thought of it. I shall send for a doctor at once.’

‘Then we shall alert the kitchen staff’, Georgiana decided as she and Charlotte rushed downstairs after him.

Anne had ran to the kitchen and opened the door just in time to find Mr. Crowe stumbling down the last few stairs. He had sat on the flight of stairs for a little while, before nausea had driven him downstairs to soil a flowerbed with his vomit.

‘Careful’, she breathed as her arms shot out to keep him from falling. She stumbled down with him, but managed to ensure neither fell.

He struggled against her grip.

‘Just leave’, he hissed, feeling the acid rising to his throat before it ebbed away again.

The words stung, she had never put herself in a vulnerable position before, but had hoped her status as the sister of his dear friend allowed her to help him.

‘Are you alright?’

Whatever he wanted to say was cut short, because as soon as he opened his mouth, the nausea came back. He stumbled forward, and it took all of Anne’s willpower to remain where she was.

‘I’m in complete control’, he said, obviously not in control.

‘Do you really hate me that much that you can’t even bear to have me help you?’

‘Hate you! You really don’t know do you?’ Mr. Crowe rasped in disbelief. Panting, he turned towards her, eyes almost fully obscured by his curls.

‘I-‘

The next wave of nausea hit him, and this time it didn’t flow back down. He could feel his cheeks instinctively balling up. He heard the rumbling rising from his stomach and through his chest, squeezing through his throat and then…

‘Alexander!’ Her hands shot to her mouth to cover up the indiscretion, but he didn’t hear it.

He turned towards the flower bed and retched, feeling a pair of cool hands holding back his hair.

A second wave made itself known, leaving him panting for a good few minutes.

‘I’m not… in my altitudes, just so you know’, he breathed, torn between catching his breath and retching again.

‘I didn’t say you were.’

‘I must disgust you.’

‘You are unwell. You cannot help it.’

‘It’s the.. it’s…’

Anne closed her eyes. She didn’t wish to see the poor violets destroyed.

‘It’s the other guy that should be unwell’, he growled.

‘Other guy?’

‘You don’t happen to like that… _dandy_ … you shared two dances with at the ball, do you?’ he asked with great difficulty, struggling through the words as a pounding headache tore at him now that his stomach was emptied.

‘Viscount Foxam?’ she asked in wonder. She had given him two sets of dances, one to get away from seeing how easily Mr. Crowe had been conversing with Esther’s friends, the second set because she had wanted to dance and forget her worries while he had been willing. She knew the man, but had never spared him a second thought. ‘No, not at all.’

‘Good’, he huffed, and his voice was filled with such disgust that Anne could not help but be surprised.

Emotions pulled the corner of his mouth up and down.

‘He was at the club tonight. Asked me, since I was a friend of the family, if I knew whether you were spoken for.’

‘Oh.’

‘Then continued with certain remarks that were most definitely too lewd and out of place, so I challenged him for an match of arm-wrestling for your honour, since… argh… duelling’s illegal.’

Anne was too overcome to answer. The emotions were too strong and confusing, propelling her towards the edge of reason, beyond the realm of words. She needn’t worry though, Mr. Crowe continued on his own, supporting his head with both hands as he sat on the grass.

‘The… The pr… no I shouldna… bad word… fuck my… agh… Dandy’s a sore loser. Stood up to leave but he punched me so hard I tumbled over my chair and hit the ground’, he slurred.

‘I’m honoured you took it upon yourself to defend my honour’, she answered, politely ignoring his difficulties.

Mr. Crowe was silent for a long while. She could see just enough of his face to see his brow furrowing as the headache tortured him.

‘Babbers was playing cards, he couldn’t do it’, he finally answered through gritted teeth.

‘Still. You’re a good man, Mr. Crowe.’

That was when Charlotte Heywood threw open the kitchen door.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yes! I just came down to check’, Anne responded easily.

‘We believe he might have a concussion. A doctor has been summoned’, Charlotte announced.

‘I shall bring him in as soon as he’s ready to get up’, Anne sung. Charlotte nodded and closed the door again.

‘Do you think you might have a concussion?’

‘I don’t have a cushion. I’m in a garden’, he answered with sarcasm.

‘I said concussion.’

‘Mhm’, he hummed as his face became too heavy for his hands and he toppled forward.

The conversation had stopped being interesting, and the symptoms were becoming worse.

She fell to her knees to keep him from hitting his head on the ground a second time.

‘You’re blu.. bluwry.’

‘I believe you might have a concussion.’

‘You smell nice, you always do’, he murmured as she pushed him back in a sitting position.

She took a good look at him, his gaze was unfocused.

‘you definitely have a concussion.’

‘All this talk of cushions… makes me sleepy’, he groaned as his hands reached for his head again, trying to hold his skull together while it felt as it might shatter.

‘Once the doctor checks up on you, you’ll be able to have a nice sleep.’

‘With you’, he murmured as she helped him stand up.

Her cheeks were burning, but he didn’t notice at all.

‘Umm. Sure’, she answered, flabbergasted.

He wouldn’t remember, she told herself.

‘Sweet dream… Such a good one… You woudna dare betray s’meone.’

‘I wouldn’t’, she muttered as she supported him on the stairs with no small amount of difficulty.

‘We need to take him to a bedroom. Is there a guestroom ready?’ Anne asked of the kitchen servants.

‘We only need to light a fire, my lady.’

‘Send someone to do that, please. Could you help me bring him in the meanwhile?’

‘I’m floating’, Mr. Crowe said as they helped him to the stairs.

‘You’re walking.’

‘I’m dreaming. You’re not really here’, he answered.

Esther silently followed Lord Babington out of the room as he gave the order. She knew she had no reason to be as irked as she did. They had not planned to meet tonight, he was a free man and was allowed to enjoy his evening with his friends. She knew drinking and playing cards was a huge part of almost anyone’s night time entertainment, yet she couldn’t help but think of Edward, and all the times he wasted a large chunk, if not all, of their monthly budget on gambling after which she would have to make ends meet with no small amount of difficulty. She could still remember how he stumbled home, even in the mornings from time to time, reeking of alcohol and other women.

She wasn’t allowed to compare them, and she was in no position to have an opinion on his behaviour, yet she could not help the annoyance and mild anger.

‘You’ve been gambling?’ she asked innocently, though she couldn’t keep all accusatory feelings out of her voice.

‘I… Shouldn’t I have?’

‘I can’t tell you what to do. Should you?’

‘Well, it’s a normal evening activity… and, quite a useful one for politicians I might add. Sometimes there’s… a use in losing from the right people.’

‘Oh pray do tell, I’m curious to know’, she answered coldly.

He scratched his head, as they walked back into the drawing room.

‘When people feel like they’re winning from you, they feel more magnanimous, they might agree to suggestions they wouldn’t agree to under normal circumstances, or they’d feel like they’d owe you something, after making you lose a certain sum.’

‘And this extends beyond the season?’ she shot back.

‘Interactions with fellow members will always be politically charged. If I insult them in summer, it’s going to come back to bite me in February. However, the reason I joined the gambling tables today was because during the last session an acquaintance of mine voted in favour of a proposition I believed in, although he wasn’t very much fond of it himself. I felt like I had to repay him in some way… the literal way’, he added with a self-aware laugh.

It did make sense, Esther mused. He didn’t use the tables like Edward did, to spend to feel grand or out of stupid hopes of gaining money, he used it as a political instrument, or at least, that’s what he claimed to use it for.

‘Mind, I never spend a lot of money. I don’t see the use of throwing my money away for fun. If I want to throw my money away for fun, I’ll do so in a way that’s beneficial to me, like buying drinks or something’, he explained quickly.

‘I’m not telling you how to spend your money, you can do with it as you like’, she answered.

‘You don’t want me to do it anymore’, he decided.

She wondered what he’d look like without Mr. Crowe’s hair, her stomach fluttered. She pushed the dangerous thought aside.

‘My opinion doesn’t matter. You say it’s useful, it would be stupid to stop doing it, then.’

‘Your opinion matters, my dear.’

‘It’s your money’, she insisted. ‘Stop pretending like it’s mine. Everyone and their little sister gambles, it’s fine… It’s just… I need not point out to you how many a man lost their whole inheritance at the gambling tables.’

‘No, you needn’t’, he agreed as he sat down on the couch.

‘I take it no fiancée or wife enjoys the thought of losing their home and income, even when they themselves occasionally dabble in gambling. I admit I’ve drank a bit tonight, but I would never push my limits insofar that I’d lose my senses and ruin the lives of my family and you’, he promised as he took her hands.

He did look slightly different, Esther mused, his cravat was quite undone, and she could smell cigar smoke and whiskey on him. He started to toy with Esther’s ring, lips moving without a sound.

‘I would not blame you for leaving me, if I ever did such a thing’, he admitted, his green-blue eyes looking up at hers.

‘I- If I say I care a lot about your wealth and would leave you if you lost it, that would make me a fortune huntress, but if I said I didn’t care about your wealth I would be lying since living in such reduced circumstances isn’t easy.’

He nodded morosely. She took the time to really consider what she would do if he lost his estate and his inheritance the next day. It was not an easy consideration, a lot had to be taken into account. She took into account all bad consequences, and all possibilities she had.

Then she took his character into account. He lived with the liberty of a man of fortune, although without display. He was steady, observant, moderate, honest and she had never detected a selfish streak before. His was a character which could adapt to a life in reduced circumstances. Edward had always complicated their poverty by still living like a peer who had money to keep up appearances.

He did enjoy a life in public, and never defied public opinion or decorum, but at all times judged for himself instead of simply following the opinion of the majority. He would miss having a public life and such a respected position in society, but he valued the felicities of domestic life, he would not be opposed to spending more time together with his family. He could bear it.

Then she considered leaving him and marrying some other wealthy man her aunt set her up with. What were the odds she would once again be matched to someone with such a good understanding, such correct though somewhat liberal opinions, such a knowledge of the world and such a kind, accepting and understanding heart.

While before she had easily admitted that Babington had not been handsome enough to tempt her to abandon Edward, and had been convinced his silly sense of humour was annoying, she now felt uneasy considering never enjoying the vision of him again, and their intimacy to be lost forever.

‘I can’t deny that my aunt pushed me towards you because of your wealth and title. But, say if you were to lose a grand chunk of your inheritance, or your yearly budget, or one or both houses… I would for sure call you the greatest fool on earth for the remainder of your days.’

He sighed in resignation.

‘I wouldn’t particularly enjoy it… But, well, the invitations are already out so it would be quite a scandal if I broke it off’, she jested.

‘Not if they knew the reason. You could leave.’

She knew she didn’t have to answer, yet she _needed_ to, even though she felt as though she was rushing towards the point of no return at a neck-breaking speed. There would be no taking back once she gave a serious answer instead of a funny one.

There was no one who would accept her and love her like he did, no one who would understand her and none whom she could have such conversations with. She didn’t even want to be with someone the way she was with him, she didn’t even wish to consider it.

Falling in love was neither the fast and easily recognisable thing it was hailed to be in literature and poetry, nor was it a slowly growing realisation, instead it came in skips and bursts, half a decision and half an involuntary reaction. She’d pushed away many feelings and thoughts about him that had popped up while she was unable to cope with them. They still floated somewhere, she knew, in the back of her mind, waiting to come to the forefront.

And so it was, by the feeling of pure despair at the thought of being without him, that all her other feelings clicked into place. They had become more and more clear the past month, yet still the click happened softly, and the full realisation still didn’t seep through to her conscience yet. She was ready for all the feelings, and embraced having them, but she was afraid to name them. The fear and hurt was still too fresh to dare think of herself as a woman who’d lost her heart once more.

‘I’ve been poor before. What’s one more decade underneath a leaky roof?’ she shrugged.

Lord Babington always understood her too well for her own good. It usually made things easier, since he never pushed for a full explanation. He understood her well, yet, despite having noticed the shifts in his future wife, didn’t dare to belief her liking of him was so purely attached to his personality. He’d hoped, because she hadn’t wanted him initially, that once she fell for him it wouldn’t be because of his wealth, yet to have her claim she’d take him anyway was beyond what any man could dare hope. Perhaps it was because he had drank that he felt bold enough to push her for more information, because he knew she would probably shut him down and refuse to answer anyway.

‘Am I really worth it, despite the hypothetical trouble?’

He knew he was perhaps pushing her for confessions she wasn’t ready to make, but his heart burned to know. He had accepted she might not love him the first year, or perhaps only ever learned to love him as a life partner and a father as so many wives did, but he couldn’t help but hope.

Esther bit her lip as she watched his thumbs massage her wrist. She could feel the muscles shifting in her own hand, and the warmth he was brushing into her through his movements. There was a tenseness in the air and in the pit of her stomach she was by now familiar with.

She knew she didn’t only feel the way she did because of what he did for her, and what he felt for her. There was something about him, so unlike anyone she’d met before, that awakened feelings in her against which fighting was useless.

‘Well, I still rather you wouldn’t give me trouble.’

He couldn’t help but laugh, he could curse her and kiss her for always answering humorously to prevent the conversation from being an actual serious conversation about their feelings. Esther Denham would never be a normal woman who gave plain answers or said what was expected from her, she was entirely her own and she would always engage with someone else on her own terms.

‘I promise you I will make sure you’ll never have to worry about finances.’

It wasn’t a promise to stop gambling, just like he didn’t change the wedding plans because the wedding was a grander affair than she would’ve liked. She knew this was where he could not budge, where her desires conflicted with his duties, a well-considered choice was made, taking her feelings into account while still playing the part he had to. She wasn’t overjoyed, but she knew that he wouldn’t make her an empty promise.

‘Good.’

‘Good.’

She could feel her heart beating against the constraint of her breast, almost as if it was pulled towards him by some kind of invisible tether.

She could feel the emptiness of the room and the heavy atmosphere between them. They weren’t supposed to be alone until the wedding, yet here they were. She remembered the last few times they were left alone, and that helped nothing to calm her heartrate.

She shouldn’t have kissed him. It wasn’t proper and she’d already violated it thrice, soon he would think her wanton. She wondered why she felt the need in the first place, he wasn’t even asking for it. Especially now that she’d just told him she’d stay with him, kissing him could make him think she… was in love with him.

All anticipation was punched out of her and replaced with a wave of annoyance. Why did he sit there so unbothered with a stupid smile? She was struggling, constantly second-guessing her emotions, doubting herself, and feeling like she was precariously balancing on the line of what she felt and was supposed to feel. Did he ever doubt how to approach her? He was always so confident. He always understood her. It’s not that he was a hard man to understand himself, but it annoyed her that he appeared to understand her better than she did herself, a feeling that was only increased as he pulled on her hand.

‘What are you thinking?’

She already struggled enough to have clear-cut thoughts, she didn’t feel inclined to let him in on the messy tangle of thoughts.

‘Why are you so relaxed?’ she shot back

He shifted on the couch, shoulders straightening.

‘Shouldn’t I be with you?’ he asked innocently.

She felt a million things when she was with him, but relaxation was never one of them.

‘Your friend is somewhere downstairs suffering from a concussion.’

‘Oh, yes’, he answered as his face clouded. ‘I had slipped my mind.’

‘Your friend got injured mere hours ago and it slipped your mind?’

‘I was talking to you! And then I wasn’t thinking much at all’, he admitted.

‘Well aren’t you a good friend’, she huffed.

She was being mean and she knew it, yet she couldn’t stop herself.

She could see his chest swell.

Now it would happen, this she recognised. Now he would be riled and finally be angry with her, solving the problem of her confusing desires.

But, against her expectations, he slumped down again.

‘I drank too much. I… I didn’t even see him get hurt. I was too occupied speaking to that friend I talked to you about… I don’t know how he slipped my attention so completely. Usually I do a better job taking care of him… And now it even slipped my mind while he’s in my house and there’s a doctor on the way.’

She hadn’t been prepared for the shift, and found herself feeling guilty. He’d been so worried about her, and instead of answering his concerns she’d stabbed a knife in his chest.

‘Do you always look out for him so?’

‘I always watch out for all my friends. But I know Crowe sometimes needs additional attention. He usually isn’t a self-destructive kind of man. He’s actually shockingly functional. Sometimes it’s beyond me how he still manages to be so fine. There were times he hadn’t seen his bed because he stayed up drinking, yet wrote the most eloquent of speeches, he’s been out hunting after drinking four bottles yet still managed to catch four deer, he’s even managed to steal a military uniform off of a drunken soldier and walk away without being noticed, and then there are times when he drinks less. You wouldn’t know, of course, but he’s almost as bad as he was when he first lost his fiancée. I don’t know what caused it, only that he’d been doing well except for the occasional night out, but then about a year ago, it started happening more often, and now... I should have paid attention to him. I knew he wasn’t doing well the past year.’

‘A year is a long time to pay attention to someone every day.’

He shrugged, accepting the duty nonetheless, and now fully blaming himself for the incident.

‘What does his sister say? Has she no control over him?’

‘He’s always on his best behaviour around her, but she travels a lot, currently I believe she’s residing in France with some friends of hers.’

‘Maybe she could come back?’

‘He doesn’t want her to know, most likely. He’s the elder one, it’s him taking care of her. He refuses to have it the other way around.’

Edward never felt the least bit conflicted about dropping all household decisions on her shoulders or having her take care of the mess he made. How could even a drunkard like Mr. Crowe be better?

‘I shouldn’t have said what I said. You’re a good friend, Babington’

‘Am I? I like to think I’m good at caring about people, but what good am I if I can’t help them? Take Parker and Crowe, they’re both miserable, they’ve been miserable twice on my watch, and all I could do was stand by them.’

‘You’ve been looking out for him for years, it’s not because something happened once that you’re a neglectful friend.’

He wasn’t convinced.

‘You can look out for people and be there for them, that’s about the only thing you can do. You can’t take away the reason for their bad feelings, and they can’t be happy until they want to be happy. You can’t just prevent Mr. Parker's marriage to Mrs. Campion unless you have a miracle solution to his financial problems, and you couldn’t have kept Mr. Crowe’s fiancée from cheating.’

Was she only talking of his friends, or was she talking about herself as well? He had offered her his love, his hand and his wealth, and kept on offering her his affection, yet despite the continuous offers she hadn’t been able to be happy and forget her past. It was on her.

She stood between herself and her potential happiness.

‘I could have tried weaning him off the bottle.’

‘He must want to be separated from it’, she comforted, taking back his hands in her own.

‘I still could have critiqued him more.’

‘Don’t blame yourself.’

She briefly wondered about how his drinking had started spiralling out of control after being hurt in love years ago. She didn’t know when he first met Anne, or when Anne had fallen for him, but if she was seventeen now, she must have been introduced into society no earlier than last year. Could there be a link between Lady Anne being presented and joining her older brother during social gatherings and Mr. Crowe’s relapse? If his emotional response to misery of the heart was to drink, it was perhaps possible. She imagined falling for a girl over a decade younger and the little sister of your best friend was little fun.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Esther withdrew her hands as Lord Babington answered.

‘I’ve put him in the room next to yours’, Anne announced as she walked in with Georgiana and Charlotte.

‘Very well, thank you.’

‘Perhaps it is now time for us to take our leave of you’, Esther decided as she straightened out her skirts. ‘The hour is late enough.’

‘Do keep us updated on Mr. Crowe’s condition’, Charlotte demanded. The demand was quickly agreed to, and goodbyes were exchanged.

Esther could not tend to the conversation on the way home. Her mind was too full of her exchange with Lord Babington. She wondered what would have happened had she answered his question truthfully, had she confessed she didn’t know whether it was appropriate to kiss him. But then she would have never seen the man behind the smile. He had always appeared to be so confident, so sure of his actions, yet it was not so. She had thought she was the only one constantly plagued with doubt and feelings of guilt and regret, but he was just as afraid to make mistakes, and judged himself just as harshly. But in this show of humanity, he had only become more suitable according to her.

She had been so occupied trying to compare him to those who hurt her, that she’d never realized that what she needed to see in him was something of herself. Their worlds and personalities had clashed so much, that she could only see the sea between them, which left her wondering how she would ever fit. But now their personalities matched in one way, as did their humour, and she knew their interests matched in so many ways although she had never dwelt on the topic before.

Perhaps…

There was no perhaps, she was just being too scared to think it.

‘Esther, the carriage has been standing still for over two minutes.’

‘Oh, yes, of course’, she answered with all dignity she could muster before exiting the carriage.

A letter awaited them the next morning. Mr. Crowe had been checked by a doctor minutes after they had left the previous night, he had come to the same conclusion as Charlotte. Apparently, Mr. Crowe had been struck down by another man after an argument, causing him to hit the ground by force. The impact was not too bad, as he only had a mild concussion. Mr. Crowe was advised to remain indoors the next week, with minimal daylight and no alcoholic beverages. Babington claimed the patient was irritated and weak, but appeared to be doing well overall.

Esther wondered what Anne would think of having him around the house for a full week, and prayed the girl would not do anything foolish. She penned down a hasty response saying she was glad he was doing well, and expressed once again that any man would be happy to be in the care of such a friend, before going over to Lady Susan for tea, as she had promised Charlotte to join her and Georgiana.

By the time she arrived home she had already gotten a reply which stated that Mr. Crowe had tried coming down by teatime, but had not made it past the bright hallway before being struck with nausea, which had lead his sister to propose having tea in his darkened chambers. He expressed amusement at how his sister tended to her patient with all care and severity becoming of a true and proper nurse, reading poetry to him to keep him occupied since he could not read himself, yet easily chastising him when he started complaining or felt inclined to ignore the orders of the doctor.

 _You have no idea, do you my little simpleton,_ Esther thought fondly. It was the perfect opportunity for Anne to show her own merits and prove him just how well he’d do being governed. Perhaps he could come to love her.

Between refusing Babington and having her brother betray her a final time as he spiralled into the dark abyss, she had fully believed herself to be destined for a miserable life, yet now she had to content herself with being happier than she deserved. And Anne, who had been so desperately unhappy at being overlooked, now got to be the only woman around her beloved for a full week. Neither could have expected the turn of events that saw them presented with a potential path to happiness. Now if only an opportunity would present itself for Georgiana and Charlotte to find love and happiness. If she could have it, she who was in many ways less deserving than her friends, why not they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) More on Regency Era sports here: https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/tag/regency-sports/
> 
> 2) The man is in his altitudes, i.e. he is drunk --> regency era slang
> 
> 3) I toy around with names for Mr. Crowe in my fics, I think George fits him quite well, and I like naming him Matthew after the actor, but this time I named him Alexander, since it comes from Greek name meaning "defending men", considering the discussion in which his name is first used, I decided to go with his name meaning defender. It also sounds sharp and strong which kind of fits him. 
> 
> 4) Gentlemen’s clubs were for amusement, politics, and play, and not the matter-of-fact meeting places of general society. Brooks’s , pre-eminently the clubhouse of the Whig aristocracy, occupies 60 St. James Street. Brooks’s main attraction was its gaming rooms and gambling all day and all night was not unheard of. I wanted to include a Gentlemen’s club since we see Sidney, Crowe and Babington playing cards all the time? They seemed to be happy with a tavern in Sanditon but in London Crowe and Babington appeared to meet in a very nice room, now it could be one of their homes but since Babington, being as Crowe said ‘a peer of the realm’ and a friend of the prince regent, it would just make sense for him to join political clubs to meet friends, discuss politics etc. besides attending dinner parties and so on. Now, it would make sense for him to be a member of Boodle’s, since that’s a club aimed at the landed gentry. However, that’s a Tory club, it would make sense for Babington to be a Tory, based on his position in society, however, though he’s claimed to be friends with a lot of the High Society and aristocracy, we always see him around Sidney and Crowe and is known to do business with them, which makes me believe he has at least some sympathy for the mercantile class and free trade. Being a friend of Sidney, and knowing of Sidney’s opinion on slavery, makes me feel like Babington must share at least some ideas about the abolition of slavery. He’s also a lot more liberal than anyone should be at the time. Let’s be honest. Women were property and that was normal. You had good husbands and bad husbands, but almost no one, especially not someone of his stance would be chill with having a poor bride, whose reputation could be that disputed, desire no obedience and profess to have such a modern idea of love and marriage. That would definitely make him more likely to be a Whig. However, most Whigs were against the Prince Regent, given that Babington’s friends with the Prince Regent I thought long and hard on how Lord Babington could combine his two groups of friends. I’m a historian but I’m not an English one, so if I have messed it up, do call me out, but I’m fairly certain.  
> I believe Babington really plays for both teams. Personally, he must have more liberal sympathies, however he sees the use of getting along well with his peers and doesn’t like to choose a controversial position. I can see Babington being non-affiliated or a crossbencher who tries , instead to form his own opinion depending on the topic. So I imagine he joined this club to hang out with politically like-minded people, but have also been in another club more aimed towards the landed gentry to avoid affiliation and stigmatisation by a certain party. Might add some perspective on his “my life has been something of a pretence”, because what person can be friends with Sidney Parker and form an honest connection with him, have such modern views on marriage, and be friends with the prince and be so respected in general society? One who changes his mask depending on the crowd he’s with, that’s who.
> 
> __________________  
> Alright, we're nearing the end of this story. I thought it would take a lot longer for Esther to develop feelings, but this just happened, she developed her own will and I can only roll with it. I tried having her struggle for a long time, but tshe's been fightinging against her feelings for him the entire series. She never could call him ugly, and she could never pretend to dislike his company, only her words were cold. I don't believe she was in love with him by the time of the ball, nor do I believe she's ready to love and admit that she's in love, but well, she's getting very close to it. Thank you all for your kind comments, I'm so glad you're all enjoying it.


	12. Drowning (Anne pov)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is not right in the Babington household. Between taking care of his guest and preparing his wedding, Lord Babington misses just how the presence of his guest affects his sister. Anne has some trouble adjusting to living with all her desires being only a door removed, before finding a satisfactory and proper way to deal with her guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't plan on giving Anne so much space, it's astounding in how short a time she went from a minor character to becoming such a prominent figure, with a story I couldn't help but tell. I was working for school but I couldn't focus until I got her story down. However, as this chapter has some potentially troublesome content, it is a skip-able chapter. It will give a better understanding of past and future chapters, but it isn’t vital.
> 
> Trigger warning: featuring consequences of alcoholism and alcohol withdrawal symptoms
> 
> 1) If you want a low effort meme about the subplot: https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/617650885929123840/mr-crowe-upon-hearing-he-has-become-part-of-a
> 
> 2) If you want to take a look at couple posters for this fic (yes, even a teaser for what is to come although I haven't decided on #teamstringer or on #sidlotte yet) https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/617678935955832832/posters-for-my-children-of-in-between
> 
> 3) If you want another cover picture for this story https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/617683520538689536/another-edit-for-the-in-between-i-do-love

"I know you've suffered  
But I don't want you to hide  
It's cold and loveless  
I won't let you be denied

Soothing  
I'll make you feel pure  
Trust me  
You can be sure

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart  
I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask  
I want to exorcise the demons from your past  
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart"

**Undisclosed desires, Muse**

‘No!’

It was a little past seven, and Anne had retreated to her own drawing room for some reading. Suddenly she heard a cry. Alerted, she jumped up and ran to the room from where it originated. A kitchen maid stood by a closed door, a plate with food trembling in her hands.

‘What happened?’

‘He said he didn’t want strangers in his room, Miss. I apologize. He rattled me.’

‘It’s fine, I shall give it to him, he knows me.’

‘No miss… I mean, if you wish, miss. But I would advise against it… he appears to be really agitated.’

Anne looked back at the door. Mr. Crowe had been grumpy throughout the day, showing all symptoms the doctor had predicted. But he hadn’t appeared to be hostile when they had tea with him this afternoon.

‘I shall check, and if I deem it to be safe, I shall bring in his plate. You can stay here to look out for me, alright?’ Anne offered sweetly. The maid nodded, but looked unsure.

Gently pushing open the door, Anne peered inside into the dark room. He was abed, but awake.

‘Mr. Crowe, we are here with your food.’

He didn’t immediately respond.

‘Mr. Crowe? It’s me, Anne, Anne Babington. You did not hit your head that hard that you forgot about me, did you?’ she teased.

‘Anne’, he mumbled.

Anne nodded, venturing deeper into the room.

The figure in the bed turned, and she could now see his contours as he very slowly pushed himself upright.

‘What are you feeling right now?’

‘Don’t treat me with all that softness and care, I have no need for it’, he growled.

‘You must allow me to treat you as my guest the coming week’, she explained innocently. ‘I’m not being soft just for you, it’s called being a good hostess.’

‘Consider your duties done.’

‘But I have not yet been able to offer you your evening meal. Doctor’s orders said light fare, so it’ll be some broth and bread and a little cheese, nothing fancy I’m afraid.’

‘Wine?’ he asked, cocking his head to the side.

‘No, you’re not allowed to have any, he says it’ll worsen the symptoms.’

‘But everyone has wine with their meal.’

‘Not everyone, not every meal. I know it is a little inconvenient.’

‘Damn the doctor, come on, my lady, I’m your guest, isn’t part of being a good hostess seeing to my needs?’ he answered humorously, trying to smile, but it came out as a grimace due to his headache.

Anne knew him to be blunt, speaking harshly and humorously, but he never had mood swings, going from irritated and angry to charming.

‘A mother is expected to dote on her children, yet sometimes she has to stop her child from hurting itself, even when it might cry because of it.’

‘With all respect, but I’m an adult, and you have no natural power over me.’

‘Well, this is my house.’

‘Babington’s house, actually. I’m sure a real friend of mine would allow me a drink’, he huffed.

Angry again, she noted.

Anne had gotten even closer, and noticed his shaking hands.

‘In a couple of days I might sneak you one’, she smiled. She had thought it would make him happy, but his face was etched with misery and frustration.

‘Screw a couple of days.’

‘Mr. Crowe, your language. Now I certainly won’t grant it to you.’

‘Alcohol. Relaxes. The. Nerves. Is. It. Not?’ he asked impatiently.

‘Well, yes.’

‘Do you see this? Lady Anne? These are nervous nerves’, he hissed as he lifted his violently shaking hands.

‘You’re not able to eat the broth’, she concluded, finding the source of his frustration and his insistence.

She wasn’t allowed to give him alcohol. But then the doctor had said nothing about shaking. Why wouldn’t he list that as a possible consequence? She decided that whatever it was, it could not be used as a reason to push aside his orders.

He smiled sourly.

‘No worries, Mr. Crowe, I’ll remedy it.’

‘Bless’, he answered as he plopped down again.

Anne went outside again.

‘Could you pour it in a bowl with two ears so he could hold it with two hands?’ Anne asked of the servant. The older woman nodded and quickly went back downstairs.

Anne delivered the food ten minutes after.

‘See, you can hold it like so, so you’ll be able to drink the broth. You’re not feeling well, shaking can occur I guess, although I’m not certain, the doctor didn’t speak of it.’

‘Leave it and go, don’t trouble yourself on my accord. No need to join me in the darkness.’

She had no words to describe the look shared between them, not even when she focussed on writing poetry about it after returning to her drawing room. His had been a look of pain, frustration and sorrow, and hers had been sorrowful too. Here was the man she had hoped to spend more time with, but rendered an invalid who could not be his true self due to his affliction. And she could not encourage him without breaking decorum. She had no reason to join him in his dark room, and could not, as per the rules of society.

Yet there was something in his gaze, inspiring hope. It was wishful thinking on her part, she suspected, that a part of him would want her there, despite his coldness.

Absorbed by a book, and having decided to stay up until her brother arrived home from his night out, she had not noticed how the hours had gone by, when she heard a stumbling down the hallway.

‘Mr. Crowe!’

He clung onto his door, unsteady of foot, face scrunched with pain due to her crying.

‘What are you doing outside of your room?’

‘I… need…’

‘To be in your room.’

‘No, please… A drink. Some company. I’m tired of being in that dark room, the walls are coming for me.’

‘Mr. Crowe, no.’

‘I bet you’re having one with Babbers right as we speak.’

‘He isn’t home. And no I’m not, I’m having tea.’

He looked up with great difficulty, his head appearing to weigh a ton.

He looked frightfully weak in his emerald banyan.

‘Could I give you a cup, perhaps with a tincture of laudanum?’

He sighed tiredly.

‘I’m not dressed for a tea party.’

He decidedly wasn’t, even his banyan was hanging off of his body, one shoulder part clinging to his elbow instead, it had been thrown on in a haste, and his curls looked wild and unkept.

‘There will be no other visitors, and I have already seen you today, come.’

He crawled forward, clinging onto the walls. But she guessed he would be too proud to be helped to her drawing room.

She treated him to a cup of chamomile tea, laced with the promised laudanum which she hoped would alleviate his headache.

The fine and dainty china looked ridiculously tiny in his large hands. The tiny cup shaking between them, tea spilling over on all sides as he lifted it to his mouth.

She had extinguished quite some lights in the room to spare his eyes. She tried reading to him, but he appeared to be too distracted. And when she tried talking, his answers were hit and miss as well. But he stayed, although the tremor didn’t lessen. Despite that their shared moment was awkward and uncomfortable, Anne could not help but enjoy it. This was the first moment she had him all to herself, and just for a little while, she was able to pretend she was his wife and they were spending the evening together as a couple. She was also free to gaze at him without the risk of being caught. Her eyes traced the curve of his rounded eyebrow, and she tried to commit the angles of his jaw to memory to draw him later on. 

Even in his current dress and despite his evident suffering, she could not help but admire him. He laid on the couch across of her, drowning in his big banyan that swallowed him whole, leaving only his feet, hands and head uncovered. Lying there, his legs draped across the armrest, she was once again amazed by his length and the handsomeness of his face. 

It was the first thing she had noticed about him. She could still remember times when her brother had talked about his friends at home, yet they had been his London friends, so she had never seen them. Her brother had discussed his studies and events he'd attended, carefully omitting what he knew to be inappropriate to the ears of his parents and sister. Mr. Crowe had just been one name of many, although it featured more frequently than others. Yet she knew nothing about him except his employment and his failed engagement, all that made him him, she had only learned once she was introduced to society. She had been introduced in December, and had circulated in London for two weeks, before she had returned home. There she had a splendid first season, away from her brother and his friends. She had her first crush, and her first small heartbreak. She found out her crush had impregnated a girl before marrying a wealthy heiress. That's when she learned men hunted for heiresses while not necessarily being in love with them. That's when she first lost some of her faith in men.

Thoroughly disappointed in the young boys she had met, she had gone to London, hoping a change of scenary would do her good. It had, London was vibrant and the people lively and perfectly capabable of distracting her. 

Her brother had taken her to a garden party, where she had nervously clung to two girls she had met in December, before going to look for her brother. She had spotted his figure in a circle of ladies and other men. She had not known how to announce herself, not wanting to be the little sister who pulled on her brother's sleeve. But she also didn't posess the easy airs around strangers needed to introduce herself without his help. As she had stood behind her brother, contemplating her move, the tall figure next to him had turned around, grinning easily. 

' _Why I didn't think London had fairies,'_ she remembered him saying.

' _There's a lot you don't know about us. But that's alright. We don't want you to know',_ she had answered. There hadn't even been time for embarrassment. Then he'd smiled, and she'd smiled and they had started a conversation.

It took her brother twenty minutes to catch on.

_'Oh Babbers, have you already met this delightful fairy?'_

_'That's my sister, you idiot',_ he'd laughed _._

_'If that one gives you trouble don't hesitate to tell me, Anne. Although I hope that your status as my sister will make him think twice.'_

_'Trouble? Me? You wound me Babbers.'_

He hadn't made a move on her, but he had been handsome and entertaining, and that first impression, together with the knowledge of his past hurt and job, had made her incredibly interested in him. Afterwards stories about his shenanigans and encounters with inebriated versions of him had quickly followed. She had gone through a fase where she had been as fascinated as she had been horrified by his rudeness, his opinions and his drinking. Then she had become angry, because his good qualities were overshadowed by his bad ones and he let them overshadow them. Then had come to shocking realisation that she had been so angry because she had wanted everyone to see him the way she saw him. And when she saw him flirting with a woman in August and had grown inexplainably irritated and sad, she had realized she was in love. 

An explanation for her feelings had not been hard. He was mature and handsome in a decidedly masculine way, unlike the younger men who had courted her. He was honest and did not hide his bad sides like other men did. He had her brother's trust, and she trusted her brother to be a good judge of character. And on top of that came his integrity, his writing skills, his humour, his loyalty to his friends, the carelessness with which he brushed aside critique and decorum while she felt crippled by the thought of making a mistake, and the way he was absolutely not in it for her money. He was everything she was not, and everything she desired in a husband.

She knew he would not fall for her despite that most men would be quite happy to have her. He was worldly and free, and had a very good and interesting life by all accounts while she was a very young girl knowing nothing but what her governess had taught her. That summer, she had begged her mother and brother to send her to school in France. She claimed she wished to train all her languages in a proper setting and see a part of Europe. She hadn't thought it would secure her Mr. Crowe but she had hoped her stay at a school abroad would teach her about the culture and country, make her a bit wiser and interesting, and make her forget about Mr. Crowe. She gladly gave up a year of being out for it. She reached all her goals except for the last one.

And now she was back, to dream away as she tried to keep up a conversation with him.

An hour later, she escorted him back to his rooms. She had been convinced that was the last she would see of him that night. But at two o'clock, as she gave up on awaiting her brother and was making her way to her bedroom, she could hear him again.

She knocked on his door, but got no answer.

‘Mr. Crowe?’ she could hear the sound of things hitting the floor and cursing.

She opened the door, damned be the rules.

‘Mr. Crowe?’

‘It must be here somewhere’, he muttered as he paced through the room.

The room was a mess, drawers lay on the floor, and his bed was in a state of disarray.

‘What’s the meaning of this?’

He looked about the room, taking in all the mess, she saw he realized how bad it looked, and could see shame overflowing his system knowing she had seen the desperation in him. ‘I must appear mad.’

He did. What could she say to help him.

‘The servants will clean the room in the morning, it’s fine. They need to have something to do’, she tried to laugh, but it fell short.

Was this a result from falling on his head? Or was this the result of being used to drinking each day?

‘I really didn’t’…’

If he said he didn’t plan on doing it, or hadn’t intended to go that far, that would make him delirious, and if he said he had intended to check every drawer for alcohol, it would make him mad and obsessive, neither was desirable.

‘I won’t blame you, it must be from the fall on your head. I won’t think of it anymore, it’ll be like it didn’t happen’, she promised. ‘Just go to bed, Mr. Crowe, I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time. The doctor said a good night’s rest would do wonders.’

‘Good morning brother’, she greeted Lord Babington as she came downstairs the next morning.

‘Is something the matter?’ she asked with dread building in her belly as she took in his tired features.

‘Shortly after I arrived home, I could hear some noise down in the hallway. It was… Mr. Crowe, he’d come out of his room once again. I tried bringing him back, but, we needed two men to restrain him. I had to lock the door.’

‘This isn’t normal, is it?’

He shook his head.

‘Let’s check up on him together after breakfast, and then if it isn’t over, we’ll call for the doctor.’

‘I doubt you should see a man in such a state, Anne. Imagine I let a man into your room if you’re ill.’

‘Brother, come. I have seen him when he came out of his room multiple times yesterday. He’s our patient. And I shall remain at the door.’

He agreed and they went to unlock his room after breakfast. He was awake, shaking and sweating profusely, while they knew his temperature was not allowed to go up.

‘Babbers, finally, you’re back. They locked me up, can you believe that? Why do I get locked up instead of that criminal piece of scum that punched me. And I can’t even get a drink around here either. Prison’s better than this. Surely you understand?’

Babington assured his friend and made some innocent enquiries before exiting the room. They immediately summoned the doctor.

‘You shall need to keep the fever down. A fever is dangerous for the brain. Especially when one already has trauma. He must drink a lot of water. He mustn’t get dehydrated. And only cold food, no hot food until his fever breaks down. And wash cloths. Keep him cool.’

‘What must a man do to get a drink around here?’ Mr. Crowe asked as the doctor asked him a question.

The doctor shifted, throwing them an shocked look.

‘Does this man drink a lot?’ the doctor asked.

Anne and Babington nodded shyly.

‘I see.’

‘Do you wish a drink, young man?’ the doctor asked.

‘Wine, please’, Mr. Crowe begged.

The doctor turned towards the siblings.

‘He shall have no drinks. I have read in many books and treatises that drinking may precede a manic episode. The gentleman is obviously unaware of his surroundings. I cannot judge his brain injury since the drunken mania and delirium have symptoms of a brain injury becoming worse.

They heard little noise from his room that day, unlike the previous one, and when they went to fetch him for tea as they had done the previous day, they found him on the floor, burning with fever. His state immediately explained why they hadn't heard something from his room. Anne immediately dove towards the basin with water, and swept a rag across his face as her brother summoned a couple of servants. Anne was driven out of the room while a cool bath was drawn before he was placed back in bed, this time with a servant near the bed to watch over him. Her brother explained that Mr. Crowe was awake now, but delirious because of a fever.

She accepted it, showing nothing but the appropriate level of worry.

Esther visited them that day and had dinner with them. Anne, too overcome with emotion and having no one, least of all her brother or her friends of her own age to confide in, begged for a moment alone with Esther. Babington quickly exited the room when she asked for a ‘talk about womanly problems’.

Esther comforted her, although she clearly showed no little amount of worry. Anne accepted that she couldn’t expect anyone to think of her as sane. Esther warned her to guard her heart and keep the appropriate distance, but expressed sympathy, saying she understood how painful it was to see someone she loved going through illness.

'You Babingtons really like to make things difficult for yourselves. A million pleasant and attractive wealthy people, yet you choose a bitch and a drunk. You do love having your work cut out for you.'

“As if it easy to ignore our feelings and pick someone purely based on the propriety of the match. No, Esther, I do believe convincing myself to love another would be a lot more work.'

Esther shook her head in amusement. Her laugh was actually not unlike Mr. Crowe's bitter laugh, Anne mused.

'And perhaps, we believe being together with the two of you is no chore at all.’

Esther was visibly touched, and remained silent for a while after. Then she begged Anne to consider appearances, and urged her to go to the theatre with them the next day, and with regret, she agreed. She knew she had no true reason to stay home. He would not start loving her because of her sacrifice, but others could start suspecting something if a lady remained at home with a man, even if there were servants in the house.

Then, she returned the favour to her brother, and excused herself despite having to function as an eyewitness to there not happening anything, so they could have some time together.

The third day she did not see him at all, but she did pause at his door when she returned from the theatre. She could hear his incoherent mumbling behind the door.

She could hear him alternating between French and English as he apologized to someone she didn’t know. Then his pleading turned into anger, as he critiqued someone and accused them of lying. Anne listened on, arrested with fascination.

‘No, no. No you lie! No! She’s not like you. Shut up, Isobel. She won’t. She won’t Stop it you dirty little… You weren’t perfect either! Anne. Anne, Anne please. Anne, don’t go. Anne!’

Too moved by his desperate pleas, she knocked on his door.

‘Mr. Crowe?’

‘Alexander. My name… is Alexander’, he panted.

‘Alexander?’

‘She’s still here! You see. She’s here. No. I won’t hear of it.’

Anne retreated, feeling she had heard too much. She was hearing things she shouldn’t. He would not want her to know. He was a proud man, she doubted he would want anyone to see him the way he was now. She pushed herself away from the door before her determination to do the right thing left her again.

‘Miss, Lord Babington isn’t home and… we have a little… problem, with your guest.’

‘What is it Eliza?’

‘He refuses to be helped by us… We tried giving him breakfast… He doesn’t want strangers.’

‘I shall go’, she agreed, abandoning her own breakfast.

His room was still dark, and didn’t smell as fresh. The servants probably didn’t get the chance to open up the windows.

‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s me, Lady Anne’, she announced as she walked over to the windows, carefully cracking them open without moving the curtains.

Once done, she took the tray with breakfast where it stood on a drawer next to the door. She left the door open, so her honour could not be questioned, but knew the servants would not dare to look in.

He was shaking, but appeared to be doing well besides that. He wasn’t sweating or talking to himself. She picked up a rag on the side of the bowl of water next to his bedstand. She felt very much like an impulsive seventeen year old girl that instant, instead of a woman two weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday. She wrung out the rag, and gently placed it against his forehead. His eyes fluttered towards her, taking her in from underneath his heavy brow.

How blue his eyes were, especially now that they were offset by dark hair on both sides, both on top of his head, and on his cheeks. She had never seen a man with a beard before, and curiously wiped her index finger across it to feel the texture. It felt funny and rough, yet it made something inside of her chest cavity flutter.

‘Still dreaming’, he muttered. 

Anne smiled, gently tracing the line of his brow.

‘I heard you scared away the servants again. You shouldn’t, they were only here to bring you your breakfast and you must eat. You will need your strength’, she smiled encouragingly.

She put his plate on his lap, but considered he wouldn’t be able to feed himself, not even with a spoon.

‘Say A’, she smiled as she lifted a first spoonful towards him.

‘Don’t patronize me’, he growled.

‘Okay, you take it.’

His hand slung towards the spoon, grasping it with his full hand. In less than two seconds his shaking hand had launched the content of the spoon upwards, and had hit the spoon loudly against the ceramic bowl. The food fell on his chest, they both looked at the piece of porridge in silence.

‘I see’, she smirked as she plucked it from his chest.

‘Now that you’re done playing, may I continue?’

He silently accepted his defeat, and took the spoons she offered.

She could see his eyes losing focus as his breakfast continued. She assumed he would go back to sleep, but instead he started to talk to her, about all kinds of plans he had had. And things he had done.

‘You like being in charge at home, don’t you?’

‘I–‘

‘Will you kiss me like you did before when I performed that de Ronsard poem?'

‘I don’t know. Perhaps if you recite it again?’ she tempted him. She knew she shouldn’t abuse a delirious man like this. She knew his love was probably not aimed at her, yet she could not help but take every little piece she could get, even when it was intended for another.

 _He will hate me if he remembers this_ , she thought to herself, yet she could not help herself. She was too lost, and too desperate for his love.

  
“Maîtresse, embrasse-moi, baise-moi, serre -moi  
Maîtresse, embrasse-moi, baise-moi, serre-moi,  
Haleine contre haleine, échauffe-moi la vie,  
Mille et mille baisers donne-moi je te prie,  
Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n'a point de loi.”  
  


‘A love without law, how romantic’, she smiled.

‘And without law it is. How my heart gladly ignored all laws of propriety while falling for you, you little minx’, he smirked.

He was looking at her though. Who did he see? She wondered. She felt a sharp jealousy, but knew she had earned the torment by venturing into his room.

‘Love has never cared about propriety’, she sighed.

His head lolled to the side, his eyes shutting once more.

She spent the fifth day deliberately distracting herself by visiting friends of her own age in the morning, and going along with a dress fitting of Esther in the late afternoon. In the evening she was expected at a banquet thrown by Lady Susan and Lord Kent, and only got home at one. She urged herself to walk past his door without listening in, and instead read until she was too exhausted to think at all.

‘Miss, it’s already half an hour past your usual hour’, the maid announced as she knocked on Anne’s door.

‘I already guessed as much from the amount of light shining through my window. I’m being a real slug-a-bed this morning I’m afraid’, Anne muttered, slowly struggling upright. Her cheek felt sore from where she’d lain on the edge of her book whilst sleeping.

‘You may come in’, she announced.

Her eyes stung due to the lack of sleep.

‘I hope you are not taking ill, my lady’, her servant asked as she prepared everything for Anne’s toilette.

‘No, no. Just, been up reading’, she explained, quickly shoving the “Essay On Drunkenness” into a drawer of her nightstand.

‘Was it a nice book, miss?’

‘Oh yes, it was quite captivating.’

After washing and holding a cold wet towel to her face for ten minutes while her hair was being done, she felt ready to put on her clothes and go downstairs. There had been a summer storm the night before, but now the day looked to be quiet and overcast. Passing by the door she had halted at so many times before, she wondered what was happening behind them. She ignored the impulse to check the sounds behind the door and instead convinced herself to go straight to the dining room. She hoped her brother would still be there for breakfast.

Putting on a smile, she pushed open the door, a greeting for her brother already forming on her lips, but the smile and words turned to ash as she first heard, then saw the two figures at the end of the table quietly conversing, both in their banyans.

‘Mr. Crowe’, Anne spluttered.

She had not expected him to be downstairs, especially not as lucid as he appeared to be. He shifted in his seat, a tea cup held between his steady hands. She could feel the full effect of his clear blue eyes, enhanced by the emerald colour of his shining banyan. Immediately she felt embarrassed because of her morning dress. She clenched her hands together to prevent herself from adjusting her lacy chemisette and blue bandeau.

‘Lady Anne’, he greeted reservedly.

She swallowed away the discomfort, deciding she had already overreacted enough.

‘And brother’, she greeted with a smile as she lightly skipped over to her place at the breakfast table.

Her brother smiled back at her as she took her usual place across of him, which meant she had to sit next to Mr. Crowe, but she decided to pretend as if it was just as good as any seat to her.

‘You’re late, Anne. Usually you’re the first one to come down’, he brought out with a smile.

‘Oh, I’m afraid I overexerted myself last night, I stayed up reading way beyond my usual hour’, she smiled sweetly.

Mr. Crowe had grown silent, and she subtly looked at his plate. She was pleased to detect crumbs and pieces of fruit. It appeared his appetite had finally returned. She considered what to say, afraid a too direct question or remark might make him feel bad.

‘I’m glad to see you joining us this morning, Mr. Crowe.’

‘Yes well, I decided to join the day people again, I’m afraid life as a vampire isn’t for me.’

‘I’m glad your sense of humour has returned to us too. It has been missed.’

‘Yes indeed, we are all happy’, her brother agreed.

‘Are you feeling well?’ she asked, as neither man appeared to be able to carry on the conversation. She was at least glad that as the mistress of the house, she was allowed to make these inquiries without rousing suspicion.

‘I am here, am I not?’

A remark about his attempts to join them for tea turned to ash on her tongue, that wouldn’t be wise, she decided.

‘You are. Yet, do you feel well, or do you still suffer from a headache?’

After she had finished buttering her bread and putting some fruit on her plate, she finally dared to look at him.

She could smell the citrus, amber and wood notes of his soap and perfume still on him. His hair still gleamed in some spots where the water had not yet completely dissipated, and his cheeks were once again smooth. He had bathed.

He quickly diverted his eyes and coughed.

‘I don’t. I find myself… surprisingly clearheaded.’

‘Your days with us are numbered then’, she smiled as she heard her heart breaking. She had imagined nursing someone with a headache, spending teatime and breakfasts and evenings together, she hadn’t expected to instead have an invalid in the house who was rarely lucid enough to talk to, and now would be gone soon.

‘Actually, if that is alright with you, Anne, we have decided that perhaps Mr. Crowe could stay with us a while longer.’

She tried not to look too joyful or surprised when she brought out an appropriate ‘Oh’.

‘Perhaps… If you feel like you are up to it… you could tell her?’ her brother asked of his friend.

She could more sense then feel his eyes rolling before he whipped his head to shake his curls to the side.

‘We have decided that it would be better if I stayed here for a while. It appears I have succeeded in worrying him and he would rather I stay here so he can keep an eye on me for the foreseeable future… However, although the past couple of days are kind of blurry, from what I can recall I assume I’ve been quite a handful, for which I apologize, and in case you are happy – rightfully so – to be rid of my presence I have no intention of overstaying my welcome’, he explained. His voice was hesitant and remorseful as he struggled through the sentences with long pauses.

She looked at her brother, whose furrowed brow made her wonder whether Mr. Crowe had said what Babington expected him to say. However, John remained silent and looked at her instead, while Mr. Crowe deliberately occupied himself drinking his tea. She could have him for a little while longer, and judging by his state, he would be better and would spend more time in their company.

‘You need not apologize, Mr. Crowe, we knew you weren’t feeling well when we took you in, so we cannot blame you for being ill. If you wish to stay, you are most welcome, you are amongst friends here, we do not mind having you.’

‘I’m going to have to tell her if you don’t’, her brother gently told his friend.

‘Right now?’ he asked tiredly.

‘I’m afraid it can’t wait days. We all need to be in on this together.’

‘I know I’m being inappropriate, but could you give me a minute with her, Babbers?’

Her brother looked at her then, waiting for her answer. She gave him a nod and a smile, after which he rose and left the room.

A long silence stretched between them, Mr. Crowe occupying his hands with refolding his napkin over and over again.

She waited for him to gather the courage needed, but he threw away the napkin and jumped upright, pacing through the room.

‘There is a very good chance I’m going to embarrass myself right now, but I’m afraid it cannot be avoided. I wish it could be but I need to know, and there’s no other way around it. I just have to accept that I have sunk low, and will continue to lower myself, in your esteem.’

He looked at Anne then, from a safe distance, leaning against the wall next to the window.

Anne nodded politely.

‘Did I dream about you coming into my room sometimes?’

She shook her head.

‘Did I say things?’

She nodded.

‘What did I talk about?’

Anne’s cheeks flushed, and Mr. Crowe took it for the answer it was, pacing to the other side of the room and turning his face to the corner.

‘Please, don’t spare me.’

‘Spare yourself, you weren’t yourself. I won’t hold what you said against you. And you must know… I… I apologize for entering your room. It’s just that… Well, back in the beginning when you cried out and my brother wasn’t home… And… well. I didn’t intend to, but I was worried. You tried to leave your room once and I escorted you back… And then I heard some noises behind the door and all the drawers were out of chests and closets.’

Crowe sighed, and she could see his head nodding.

‘So those weren’t dreams.’

‘No’, she answered once she realized she couldn’t see him nodding.

‘And I came to bring you breakfast once, because sometimes, you would lash out at the maids.’

He nodded again.

‘You spoke of… you spoke of… Your fiancée’, she answered timidly.

His back tensed.

‘Anything else?’ he asked.

‘You spoke about me.’

She could still hear him crying her name with absolute agony dripping off of his voice.

‘What did I say?’

He had as much trouble asking the questions as she had answering them.

‘Mr. Crowe.’

‘Tell. Me.’

‘You were discussing me with her. And you called for me. And when I brought you breakfast you recited a French poem to me.’

She could hear his breathing even from where she was sitting.

‘Is that it?’ he asked with resignation.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re not holding anything back?’

‘No. I promise.’

She could hear him breathing in deeply and sighing, before he turned towards her again.

‘I wish you wouldn’t have heard anything.’

‘I’m sorry for overhearing things you never intended me to hear.’

‘No, stop apologizing. It’s on me. It’s all on me. I’m the reason you heard all those things in the first place! I got myself into it.’

‘Because you defended me.’

‘It’s not your fault that scumbag talked about you the way he did, and no way in hell I was going to let him say those things and walk. Don’t blame yourself’, he said, his eyes surprisingly tender before his mouth turned sour again as he looked away.

He could handle the sunlight now, she observed as he walked towards the window.

‘What I said wasn’t caused by the fall.’

Anne remained silent.

‘You couldn’t know. And neither did Babington. Since you never experienced… But I did. My state was the result of quitting alcohol abruptly. I’ve… had it before. I knew having a drink could bring an end to the worst of the symptoms but when I’m down there… I can’t… properly explain myself. I’ve, been through it before. I’m not one for getting headaches after a night of heavy drinking, I don’t retch like others do after drinking a lot. My problems come when I am not drinking. Usually, I solve it by drinking again. But now I couldn’t. It’s how I know I… have once again started drinking too much… I didn’t think clearly, I didn’t know what was real and what was a dream or a fabrication of my own mind. The things I said to you, I shouldn’t have said. But neither of us will be able to pretend like I never said them, despite your promises you won’t hold my words against me. So, it’s not with a little amount of shame I now feel forced to explain myself.’

He crossed his arms, awaiting harsh words and disapproval that never came. Yet, he couldn’t turn towards her.

‘You were young when my first engagement ended, but I have no doubt you know the reasons. I took it badly. However, you must believe I am over it. Really, fully over it. However, you also know me in the present day.’

He looked at her with a self-depreciating smirk. Anne nodded with a small smile.

‘I have my slew of enemies and political opponents, and when I drink, she, takes on all the voices of my current adversaries,m. Because she was the first one who showed such a dislike of me. Now she keeps on telling me all the reasons why I am the bad person. That’s why you heard me talking to her. I don’t know what I said, but I doubt I ever addressed her in loving terms.’

He hadn’t. She hadn’t even thought of it until now that it was pointed out. She quickly nodded, and suddenly, all she had overheard started making sense. All comments and critiques he claimed not to care about usually, actually did bother him and had come back to him in his darkest hour, when he was no longer able to distract himself with other people and drinks.

‘The reason why I talked about you – ’

‘Really, Mr. Crowe, you needn’t’, she interrupted him.

‘It’s not like I want to’, he bit.

Immediately, he regretted snapping.

‘My apologies’, he huffed roughly.

‘See, this is the whole reason why I need to explain myself. I can’t recall a lot, but you shouldn’t have heard the things you did. You had no reason to take care of me. You were under no obligation. If only a tenth of what I think I remember is true, I must apologize to you… I can barely look you and Babington in the eye. I know you are not able to understand this problem in the least. I wish you would have never seen me like that. That’s not how I wish you would see me. But now I must accept I will forever be that broken drunk friend of your brother in your eyes. So since there is no hope for me, I might as well bite the bullet and explain myself.’

She bit back the lump in her throat. She once again felt her eyes sting, but this time it was not caused by the sun. Rather, it was caused by the tears she could feel forming in the corners of her eyes.

‘You can hardly consider me a gentleman for I am not. I don’t hold the right opinions, I don’t act like one, I force you into the position of a caregiver, and now I have burdened you with a knowledge of my feelings you never should have possessed, for they are misguided and inappropriate.’

‘Mr. Crowe, you’re being unnecessarily hard on yourself’, she breathed as the first tear abandoned its place of birth. To see the one she had loved and admired, although she had never considered him perfect, to be brought so low by himself, expressing himself to be bad despite all the qualities she knew him to have, broke her heart into pieces. Yet, her heart was not yet broken, instead she could feel it beating violently due to his declaration. She did not want to hope, yet she was holding out to hear more information, like a thirsty traveller catching sight of a source of fresh water.

‘You’re twelve years younger than I am. You’re my best friend’s sister. You’re innocent and intelligent and capable, and you’re just as much too kind for your own good as your brother. You can get any man of superior birth you wish for. And for some reason, my mind ignored all the rational reasons why we don’t fit together, and all the reasons why I shouldn’t fall for you, and decided to do so regardless. But being in love, I could have borne. However, living with the knowledge that I burdened you with it, and embarrassed myself in front of you, I cannot, especially since I did so because of my own vices. There, now you know why I said those things. And now that you know, you shall without a doubt reconsider extending your invitation. I’m not your friend and I can no longer be to you who I was before.’

‘I won’t send you away, Mr. Crowe, with all respect, you were functional, but we all knew you drank too much. It’s a vice many men have.’

He stared at her with apprehension. She was too overcome by her own emotions to meet his gaze, instead she turned away so she would not lose the courage she needed to convey the words she would only have one chance of saying.

‘And I don’t want you to speak of yourself in such negative terms. I cannot claim to know you entirely, as we are man and woman and we lead our separate lives, but I believe I know enough of your vices and bad sides. They don’t prevent me from seeing your good sides. You’re an honest man, Mr. Crowe, with a good deal of integrity and a very clever mind. You have more merits than you have defects. And I refuse to blame you or spurn you for words you had no control over. I don’t see my caring for you as a burden, and neither does my brother, so you shouldn’t see it that way either. And although your words are embarrassing to you, as I’m sure everyone would be embarrassed by having their inner thoughts exposed, I do not resent you because of them.’

She could not resist the temptation, and risked a glance towards him. Seeing the violent emotions on his face drained her of all the courage she had left.

’Off again with being too bloody perfect to be believable. Come on, how can you be fine with what I just said? Didn’t you hear what I said?’

‘I understood you perfectly’, she said, cutting short his speech. ‘And I believe you are being ridiculous.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked, begging anything but her pardon.

‘I understood you said the things you did because you loved me.’ He paled, shifting uneasily on his feet before turning away from her gaze. ‘And I understand why you believe loving me to be a bad thing. I too have considered your vices and the reasons you shouldn’t love me.’

‘Upon examination, I found the reasons to be insufficient. So no. I cannot blame you for your feelings, or for your words. Since condemning your feelings would be the same as condemning my own, and I will not be ashamed. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.’

He looked at her, astonishment written upon his face. There was a tenseness in the air, a way in which she was very aware of his presence, and he of hers. Their feelings were bared, and in any novel, this was the point where a proposal was made, or a kiss given.

‘You’re joking', he rasped.

Anne remained silent, another couple of tears escaping her control. _Don’t cry._ But she was too overcome. She had not expected a confession, nor had she expected to give one. And she really hadn’t expected to be addressed like this afterwards. She felt hurt and small.

In her dreams he finally came to care for her, through games of card and dances, and then one day, he’d propose and they’d confess their love, without any of the ugly bits and the keen sense of awkwardness she felt now.

She was shocked out of her reverie by a hand on her shoulder.

‘Don’t treat me as if I don’t know what I am saying’, she begged.

‘How can I believe it is true?’

‘Because I tell you it is’, she cried as she took his hand into her own. ‘I thought my feelings were silly and one-sided, so I didn’t wish to embarrass myself by showing them.’

‘We guessed wrong’, he said more to himself than to her, looking at their entwined hands. Hers were ridiculously small compared to his, but she could not help but feel joy at seeing them united, nor could dhe deny how his touched warmed her throughout.

‘But we know now’, she said softly. She could not understand what was bothering him. She had shown her acceptance, shown her support, and shown her feelings. She knew not what held him back, he surely looked tempted enough.

He pulled back his hand, turning away from her once again.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

He distanced himself even further. She could not sit by and watch any longer. She could not help but feel refused and spurned, but she would not accept defeat now that she had gotten confirmation that her feelings were were returned. She stood, following him across the room.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m still me.’

‘Well of course you are.’

‘Look at me!’ he cried, turning towards her in anger. The fury in his eyes wasn’t aimed at her. She now understood all his outbursts were caused by him getting angry with himself.

‘I am looking.’

‘I’m not a good man, Anne.’

‘Good enough.’

‘How can you say so, when you’ve just witnessed how much trouble I am?’

Anne was rendered mute. She could not say that the things she saw had been appealing. There was no denying he was a good deal of trouble.

‘So what do you suggest? We just ignore our feelings?’

‘I said it before, you could do better. But it appears your taste in men is just as poor as your brother’s taste in women.’

‘Don’t talk about her like that. Or yourself. It astounds me how you both hate yourself and each other so much.’

‘Takes a mess to know one.’

‘Mr. Crowe. If you please, my brother and Miss Esther are happy together, despite her being a mess according to you. Perhaps…’

‘But I am very different kind of wrong for you.’

She did not flinch underneath his gaze this time, although her heart did beat violently standing this close to him. She felt his superiority of height and the potential power he could wield most keenly.

‘Do explain’, she begged.

‘For heaven’s sake, woman.’

‘Well, come on. Don’t spare me’, she challenged.

‘Perhaps you should understand, maybe then you’ll see’, he grumbled, turning away from her again.

He did not enjoy painting himself in a bad light, although he seemed determined to do so. He wanted her disapproval, yet he could not look to see her gaze turn into a hateful one. But then Mr. Crowe had never talked about his feelings before, it went against all the carelessness and general sense of aloofness he liked to give off. He even mocked others whenever they showed feelings, as if he was above having them.

‘We all drink, how can we not, water tastes like piss, but some drink more than others. And sometimes there are periods when we drink more and when we drink less. A couple of years ago, after… I broke off my engagement, I drank a lot. I’d been out with a hunting party for a couple of days, and noticed the start of the symptoms, but we’d drank through our supply of wine and ale and had to ration the remainder of our trip. I could only drink a limited amount, so I noticed the symptoms stopped when I drank again, but I could still feel how uneasy I was until I drank a lot. That’s when I got worried. People drink wine to relax, so did I. But I never was this tense and bad when I was young. So I thought: “either wine is a cure, or either not having it makes me feel bad because I’m used to it. In the same way people start feeling bad when they don’t eat for a long stretch of time.”’

She studied his back, and the way he moved his hands and waved his arms as he explained himself. She also noted the pauses where he looked at his hands, as if he was still getting used to not having a glass in them. She took in the way he attempted to lighten his words by inserting humour and short bursts of depreciating laughs.

‘I lessened my drinking, and noticed that if I drank less… I didn’t react that poorly to not drinking for a while. So I realized it was the drinks. Yet, I started drinking more again, without even thinking about it or making a conscious decision to drink more. And I find myself shocked at how awful I felt the past few days. I don’t particularly enjoy knowing I need a drink or risk falling into such a state. And then this morning, the most curious thing happened. I woke up and felt… nothing. My head was clear and at peace, my body felt fine, in a way… I feel better than I have in a long time. And I do mean a long time. I can’t remember a time in which my head felt so empty and light. And to think I reached this state without a drop… Babington and I decided perhaps… since I quite like feeling well, as one does, I would do well watching out for the temptation of the bottle again. He wishes to keep an eye on me, since having support might be better.’

‘That is a good thing, is it not?’

‘It is a good thing that I cannot govern myself?’

‘It is a good thing that you are trying to better yourself. That is all we can strive to do.’

‘A man is supposed to take care of a woman. I did a poor job taking care of myself.’

‘Luckily I can take care of myself.’

‘Anne. I’m too old, and without a title, and I have issues, even if apparently according to you, my personality isn’t one.’

‘True. So how about this? You try becoming proud of yourself.’

‘You try being someone not in need of governing. You try doing things that make you feel confident and proud. And once you feel worthy, you might perhaps believe yourself to be worthy of having me. And in the meantime, I shall do my waiting, and support you in being the best man you can. You want me to love a good man, I have time to wait and see you become one. I won’t abandon you.’

‘And what if I don’t?’

‘Then we’ll cry and be heartbroken, and you continue to fight for yourself because as you said, you like being clearheaded without needing a drink to accomplish it and I… I don’t know yet, I’ll try finding someone else who might love a blue-stocking like me, I guess. But first, let’s see what happens the next couple of years.’

She tried to smile, even as the possibility tore her apart. His face didn’t let on much, but suddenly she was scooped up in an embrace, surrounded by his intoxicating scent, with the feeling of his lips against hers.

She recovered from her shock and threw her arms around him, pressing her lips against his. He was warm, but wasn’t burning like before. She could feel his hand, unshaking, against her cheek. His lips were loose, and she mimicked their motion. No kiss described in novels could compare to the blissful happiness she felt at being united with her beloved. It all paled in comparison, and she knew she too would fail at writing a description correctly representing just how special it felt.

She wasn’t aware she’d said the perfect words. Despite being over his fiancée, the fear of being abandoned and cast aside again was still very much real. The fear of being hurt was what had kept him from falling for other women, but he had not been able to harden his heart against the soft ways with which she had crept through his defences, and then he had drank not to dream of her, and fucked around to convince himself he loved the freedom of his current state of life. But she would not go, no matter how he treated her. She was determined and calm, and constant, promising him years when his previous fiancée had cheated on him in an absence of two months without any other reason. Yet her affections weren’t foolish, she knew perfectly well who he was, and he could not convince himself she was simply a naïve fool who was blind to his bad sides. She was too good for him, but he was too wicked to deny himself the pleasure of having her if she offered herself so willingly.

They finally broke apart to catch their breath, both elated and relieved after a year of tension between them had dissipated.

‘Now you mustn’t kiss me, Alexander. I told you I’d wait. So no kissing until you can handle being engaged.’

‘Now I really have something to work towards.’

‘My feelings for you don’t depend on you having your drinking under control, I’m already in love with you and I will be able to handle being married. It’s what I’ve been raised for. Although I must admit I would love a husband who doesn’t lash out at me while he is angry with himself, and I would love for you to be happy and clearheaded and able to enter a marriage. It’s you who wants to be independent of alcohol and clear of mind. It’s you who needs to feel confident and worthy of having me. Work towards reaching your goals, I’m just… Something that comes along with reaching them. So, if you feel like you can reach them by staying with us, and have us supporting you, you are forever welcome here.’

Lord Babington chose that moment to knock on the door.

‘Should we tell him?’ Anne asked hesitantly, looking at him for advice.

‘Perhaps… We should keep it to ourselves for now. Until…’

‘I understand. I’ll try. But Esther shall know.’

‘Good gods.’

‘She already knows what I feel. She’s worried about me. She has a right to know about this.’

‘She knows, and your brother doesn’t? I thought he knew everything.’

‘You very well know siblings of the opposite sex don’t inform each other about their love lives. That would be weird’, she smiled as she tapped his nose. He scowled.

‘Imagine your sister telling you every time she saw a handsome man. What would you do?’

‘Punch them and look at them with suspicion.’

Anne laughed, grabbing his shoulders and raising herself to the tips of her toes to press a final kiss against his cheek.

‘I don’t think he’ll do that, but I won’t have your friendship go sour if something between us doesn’t go as we hope.’

‘Much obliged.’

He too grabbed her hands to press a final kiss on them.

‘Come in’, Anne sung, walking away with him with the same unbothered lightness of step her brother expected of her. Although truth be told, she did feel like floating at this very moment.

‘Mr. Crowe explained the reasons of his stay, although it took a while for him to get there, but rest assured brother, I have told him that he is more than welcome in our home, and we shall do all that is within our capabilities to help him.’

‘Splendid, so you know our plan?’

‘Plan?’ she stuttered, not prepared for that answer.

‘No drinking this week, as the doctor ordered, and as long as he is underneath our roof, he shall have no more than one drink every time food is served, and none in between. And we shall all count together. And when we go out, he shall not have drinks with his food, as punch and wine shall be unavoidable and the only possible drinks during a ball, opera or music performance.’

Anne turned towards Mr. Crowe with a smile.

‘Well Mr. Crowe, I hope you shall come to appreciate the taste of tea and coffee’, she laughed carelessly, as if not her entire future depended on the success of their endeavour.

He rolled his eyes, face scrunching in disgust at the prospect, as if not his entire future depended on the success of their endeavour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think Mr. Crowe was made purely to offset how Sidney and Babington are growing and maturing while he’s still a convinced bachelor who can’t get his shit together. He’s irritated with Babington falling for Esther, flirts with Clara at the first ball, tells everyone he finds Charlotte attractive and believes Georgiana could be fun to be with in bed. He's a rogue.  
> Yet he’s not the villain, he never tries to ruin something for his friends, and he must be capable enough that Sidney and Babington don’t mind doing business with him. Personally, being a frat girl myself, I’ve seen dozens of men like him, and many times, they’re aware of their issues. Austen-esque villains hide their true nature, he doesn't at all. He's the hardest and most flawed character I've ever written, but I want to express that I won't underplay his problems. I consulted many approved websites to look up alcohol abuse, checked dozens of reddit threads by recovering alcoholics, checked scientific articles, I want to write it the right way, not just a pretty 'love cures all trouble' story. I believe Mr. Crowe, being a Sanditon character, does deserve to get a happy ending too, and for him, that's learning to control his alcohol intake (completely stopping altogether was quite rare and difficult in the time as alcohol was everywhere, see the other notes).
> 
> 1) A banyan is a male morning dress. Check https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2011/03/05/regency-fashion-banyan-a-mans-dressing-gown/
> 
> 2) Slang used: SLUG-A-BED. A drone, one that cannot rise in the morning.
> 
> 2) Austen loved writing about men with actual occupations, and her last novel was meant as a social critique. She’d also put quite a few characters up as being obsessed with money or unhappy because of their financial uncertainty. Georgiana, almost like Georgiana Darcy, was seduced (although Otis’ intentions were good at the start of their courtship) and almost married to someone because of her wealth. This was a very real problem for many heiresses in the day. I wanted to explore how they navigated romance, and how their inheritance affected their self image and their trust in people. Georgiana is still too hurt to even consider marrying, so I created Anne who had some two years of being out and about, without having anything going against, yet still struggling to trust people. In my mind, she’s had her run-ins with a Willoughby or Wickham figure. Which is why she falls for someone who doesn't show an interest in her, and doesn't hide his bad sides, making it easier for her to trust him. 
> 
> 3) Many English physicians were worried about the social consequences of drinking throughout the enlightenment, all spoke out against regular use of alcoholic beverages. Their distaste for alcohol could be linked to the rise of tea and coffee as substitutes for drinks, and it helped that these showed a great deal of health benefits.Trotter wrote an important essay "Essay on Drunkenness" (1804), which is the most comprehensive treatise on the subject in English for the entire first half of the 19th century. . He called drunkenness "a disease; produced by a remote cause, and giving birth to actions and movements in the living body, that disorder the functions of health", "for the cravings of appetite for the poisonous draught are to the intemperate drinker as much the inclinations of nature for a time, as a draught of cold water to a traveller panting with thirst."  
> The teetotalism movement started in america (of course it did, America's relationship with alcohol is a whole story, and a documentary on netflix too I believe, very interesting), and arrived in GB the following decades (so beyond Austen's timeline, hence we won't see that in this fic). To regency and victorian people, the literature seemed to be divided between biblically motivated abstinence and discussions on the use of alcohol in food, I take it it was confusing for many. Alcohol seeped through all aspects of social life, literally. So despite those notions, which were believed by many, alcoholism didn't get solved nor was it widely addressed. I imagine it must have been very hard to stop. Water wasn't as good as it is now, tea and coffee were expensive, and people had drinks with literally every meal, drinking was near unavoidable, and so normalized it must have been hard to stop even if you tried. More on regency era beliefs concerning alcoholism (the term was only invented later on) https://www.jstor.org/stable/44450720?seq=12#metadata_info_tab_contents.
> 
> 5) I know getting into relationships during your first year of recovery is heavily debated now, but they knew nothing about it back then. I also made her what a partner of a recovering addict has to be: confident, not blaming herself, not judging him, encouraging his recovery, communicating clearly, marking boundaries and looking after herself. it's still a relationship that can be critiqued a lot, but the ship sails


	13. An Evening of Wonders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the 50 ways to Sanditon challenge, using the prompts: 'an evening of wonders' and 'no two hearts so open'. Meaning the prompt challenge is over and done with.
> 
> In case anyone needs a visual of my idea of their theatre box, these images come closest to what I imagine it to look like:  
> https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/618830484385972224/theatricallunatic-the-inside-of-the-paris-opera  
> https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/618830745122783232/hardaslightningsoftascandlelight-the-op%C3%A9ra

As Esther read Babington’s last letter that had arrived while she was at Lady Susan’s, Charlotte took her time to read a letter from Willingden, and one from Sanditon.

Georgiana occupied herself with a book as her two friends read their correspondence, although she did not read a lot, instead she wondered whether she had done right by rejecting Otis. Taking a deep breath she decided it was only because the other ladies had correspondence that she felt alone and longed for his presence, as she had not and would not forgive him. She deserved devotion, instead of being treated like a commodity. She had expected better from someone whose body had been sold for labour, than buying her with love so he could use her money.

Esther put away her letter and picked up the book she was reading.

‘I just… Read this letter. And I wondered’, Charlotte started hesitantly, hanging on to the piece of paper.

Esther quirked an eyebrow.

‘It isn’t really proper, but I am sure he did not mean to cause offence or violate any rules, but Mr. Stringer just wrote to me. He has arrived in London and is taking up lodgings near the architect’s office. He only meant to inform me since he knows I care.’

Esther and Georgiana awaited Charlotte’s following words.

‘I thought that perhaps… I don’t know, really. In Sanditon I only had to walk through town and I bumped into him. I believe that’s not really how we can meet one another in London. I know he is a single gentleman and we are ladies, but could anything be arranged? I know we’re not really equals and that your aunt cares a lot about propriety and social status, I wouldn’t wish to insult her when I’m in her home.’

‘I suppose he can make a morning call tomorrow. It would be the best time for him to drop by. There’s nothing wrong with it if there is supervision’, Esther answered.

Charlotte finally managed to give her a full toothy smile, even if it was somewhat hesitant, before picking up the quill.

‘A who?’

‘Mr. Stringer, aunt.’

‘And where do we know him from?’

‘Sanditon.’

‘I don’t believe I’ve ever met him.’

‘He’s one of the workmen. A carpenter, I believe.’

‘A workman? In my house! Whatever for is he in London?’

‘Well, this workman is apparently talented enough to intern at an architect’s.’

Her aunt huffed as she slammed some more lemon curd on top of her scone.

‘And you know him?’

‘I’ve met him one time. But he seems to be a good deal more sensible and talented than Tom Parker. And he’ll be an architect soon. You could use that, in Sanditon. Throw Tom Parker out, or threaten him to change his game or you’ll replace him?’ Esther offered slyly.

Her aunt’s eyes were sharp as she thought it through.

‘I still don’t see why we’re having him over.’

‘He’s a friend of Charlotte’s. She hasn’t been overly happy, aunt. This is such a small thing to do for her.’

‘Your fiancé is rubbing off on you, Esther. You’re growing soft.’

Esther sputtered indignantly.

‘He is not. I’m not.’

‘Oh poppycock. It’s clear as day.’

‘How?’

‘Don’t worry, the boy can come over.’

‘Aunt, really, I just don’t see…’

‘Oh you still have a big mouth and like giving comments you think are witty. But you’re getting friends, going out, making an effort to talk and be pleasant… Starting being kind even.’

‘I-‘

‘Oh don’t look so self-conscious. All this huffing and puffing and being a contrarian and being charming and distant and cunning is a Denham thing. I fit in and that’s why my second husband picked me. I don’t mind being the way I am, nor did Edward mind being a pompous prick. But you weren’t the way you were the past decade back when I first met you. You imitated your brother’s habits and manners while you lived with him until they became your own. But you’re no real Denham, no need to act like one. Especially since I know how often I’ve shot myself in the foot by being the way I am. Be the way you are now child, don’t be ashamed. You catch more bees with honey than you do with vinegar.’

Esther didn’t know what to protest first. The claim that she was growing soft and starting to be like her fiancé, that all carrying the Denham surname were horrible, or the idea that her current behaviour was preferable. In any case she felt exposed. She was shocked her aunt had already noticed a change of behaviour, when she had only decided to try to be more kind a couple of weeks ago.

And she had failed at that. She hadn’t really deliberately treated anyone with more kindness after those first three days. Just yesterday she’d been unnecessarily harsh to Lord Babington.

‘You’re imagining things’, she decided on saying before she left.

‘Oh, by the way, I’ve been invited for dinner at the Babingtons’ tomorrow.’

Mr. Stringer arrived at precisely eleven o’clock, dressed in his habitual brown garb but with a crisp white cravat. He was ushered into the living room by Charlotte, who was smiling widely.

He walked in with an easy smile, until his eye fell onto the old lady in purple sitting in the corner, one eyebrow quirked as she took him in.

‘Lady Denham’, he greeted her respectfully.

‘So you’re that Mr. Stringer I take it.’

‘I am.’ She heard he was trying to take care of his accent, but was failing to cover it up.

‘And I heard you’ve been brought here because of some so called talent, hm?’

‘I uhm, I can’t call myself that, ma’am. But Miss Charlotte here believes in me, and apparently so does the person who’s willing to teach me.’

‘Aunt, enough’, Esther decided.

After the introduction to Lady Denham, he took some time to defrost, but Charlotte quickly talked of London, and Mr. Stringer readily shared his first impressions as well. He was happy to be here and fascinated by the town, although he admitted to it being even larger than expected. He recounted a tale about having gotten lost on his first day with great humour and told a few entertaining snippets of his first day of study. Then Georgiana was included in the conversation, and Esther joined in occasionally too. He had good, polite manners and easy conversation. And he managed to make Charlotte and Georgiana smile a lot.

Two hours went by in no time, and when the time was pointed out by Lady Denham, Mr. Stringer apologized and said his goodbyes.

A light lunch was had, after which Esther prepared to have dinner with the Babingtons as she’d promised.

The housekeeper was sent with her on her excursion, to her annoyance. They could count on a warm welcome of Lord Babington, Anne was not yet present and was sent for by a servant.

‘My dear, I do not have a lot of time together with you until my sister joins us. I need to ask something of you.’

‘Oh?’

‘My sister always embraces new challenges and duties and has decided to take watching over Crowe quite seriously. He was quite challenging that first evening and yesterday. Leading to her having to intervene more often than could be expected or demanded of her. Things like coming out of his room and her having to lead him back and what not. But from today onward he’s been confined to his room. Not that he has any strength to get out. I discovered him on the ground with a fever just this afternoon. He’s fine for the moment though, no need to worry. So we don’t really spend time with him, yet she feels dutybound to remain at home as long as he’s under our roof. She told me she isn’t feeling like going to the theatre tomorrow, despite that we had all agreed to go a week ago. I don’t want her to feel like she has to stay at home for him, we’ve got plenty of servants, so he has no actual need of her. Perhaps it might even do her some good and take her mind off things. I still have a busy schedule myself, meaning I’ll be leaving her home alone without company more than I’d like. Especially since she has no plans to go out and meet up with friends herself. She’ll need this night.’

‘So you need me to persuade her to go to the theatre?’

‘Basically.’

‘Can’t do that yourself? She’s your sister.’

‘It appears she has become immune to my pleading. I believe she only agrees with me as much as she does is because we usually think and believe the same.’

‘Alright. I promise to give it a try.’

‘Much obliged, Miss Denham’, he smiled as he lead her to the table. Anne came darting in no five minutes later.

‘Miss Denham, Esther, how are you doing?’ she asked with a smile.’

‘I’m doing well. Are you?’

‘Oh yes’, the girl smiled, pretending like there were no dark shades of purple and blue underneath her eyes and those of her brother.

As dinner was served, Esther took the time to take in the siblings. They both wore luxurious clothes as always, but it was clear that at home, they did like their comfort. Babington wore the cravat style he’d often worn in Sanditon, even though he preferred stiffer ones with a higher neck when he was out in London. He was dressed in some green coat she’d seen him wear in Sanditon. In London he usually wore darker clothes. Actually, he always dresses more like Beau Brummel, in dark and more tight suits when he’s out in London, Esther realized. Yet when she thought of him, he always wore the colourful coats and sometimes straight up outdated cravat styles and a cape in Sanditon. She could put the reason down to him wearing his less fashionable clothes in a company that would not mind them, however, some of his brighter clothes had very modern silhouettes. 

Perhaps he doesn’t feel the need to look a certain way when he’s away from the judging eyes of his most influential connections, she reasoned.

As beans and lamb were placed upon her plate her eyes darted to Anne. She was dressed to the nines, her hair in a romantic updo and dressed in a proper pastel evening dress. It was a bit too dressed up for a dinner with only her brother and Esther, almost like she was expecting someone to see her and needing to look perfect. Yet she could not hide that she was tired.

Perhaps taking care of Mr. Crowe was taking a real toll on them. Perhaps he’d kept them up, or they had been unable to sleep out of worry. Perhaps if Mr. Crowe had indeed escaped from his room before, Anne felt more of a need to look pretty in case he might do so again.

‘So, Miss Denham, have you read anything of late?’

‘I’m afraid not. I’ve been quite busy.’

‘But you usually read, don’t you? Or do you rather play cards?’

‘I loathe cards’, Esther replied easily.

‘Not much of a gambler I see, didn’t exactly take you for one either.’

‘I’m not exactly keen on many games. I usually prefer solitary passtimes.’

‘There’s something very alluring about peaceful time by oneself. I must confess that I love people but sometimes need some silence to empty my head or sort through my thoughts’, Anne admitted.

Esther nodded as she took a bite of her food.

‘Of course my brother doesn’t get it. He thrives on social contact. I believe if London would close down tomorrow he’d have a straight up crisis.’

‘As if London will ever close down. The beau monde would never let the government stop social life’, Lord Babington laughed.

Anne gave Esther a look, eyebrows raised.

‘So much for enjoying to be at home with your family’, Esther teased.

‘Oh but I do. What is this conspiracy against me? I want to be home more often, I informed both of you of this. I just believe there must be a healthy balance between one’s private life and one’s social life. There’s a time to dance and a time to read.’

‘Oh I cannot tease you when you throw me that disarming look. Does he look at you the same way when he’s trying to convince you of something, Miss Denham? I always fall for it. My brother is too adorable for a man of thirty-one. Very well, dear brother, you have a point. It is only normal to enjoy the occasional social event.’

Lord Babington smiled, and both Esther and Anne couldn’t help but laugh in response.

‘So, besides reading, is there anything else you do for fun?’

‘Like… embroidery?’ Esther asked slowly.

‘Sure, embroidery, music, drawing, painting… But I already know you don’t like playing an instrument.’

‘I used to draw a lot, mostly nature’, Esther responded. ‘Not that I was any good.’

‘I tear almost half of my drawings, and hide half of those I keep because they look so horrible’, Anne confessed. ‘I always have this image in my mind and I never manage to get in on paper. It is incredibly frustrating.’

‘I think most artist can agree. We are limited in the ways we can successfully recreate nature.’

‘I’m sure Mr. Turner won’t agree. Have you seen the type of sketches he makes? I’ve heard them being described as an incomprehensible mess, a very rudimentary tree here, a stone there, a sloppily sketched wagon and then he transforms that small page of ugly sketches into those magnificent convincingly lifelike pieces of art. It’s ridiculous!’

Both Esther and Babington had to hide their amusement as Anne sighed and waved her hands in frustration.

Dinner carried on, as did their conversation. As they were discussing certain pieces of music, Babington and Esther having quite moved on from the previous topic, Anne suddenly cried out, a good twenty minutes after they had ended discussing art.

‘Oh I know! Esther, you and I must try sketching my brother! Then we can all have a good laugh, since both of us have admitted to having poor skill.’

‘E-ahm… Uhm… Do we have to?’ Esther murmured, growing uncomfortable. The thought of sketching his likeness made her uneasy. She’d have to do plenty of looking at him. What would they think if she portrayed him favourably? What if her lack of skill made her sketch horrible?

‘Anne, dear…’, Babington tried.

‘Please, Esther?’ she pleaded.

‘You don’t have to’, Babington assured her.

Esther appreciated the protection, but didn’t wish to hide and shy away from it. A part of her roared against his protection, offended that she would be more at right to refuse Anne now that he had spoken out.

‘No, it’s fine’, she said quickly, surprising the Babington siblings and herself. But her pride had been too strong to accept Babington’s support.

‘Oh how wonderful!’ Anne cried out.

‘Given that you’ll be sitting down doing nothing for some time, perhaps you would like some time to yourself now? I would most appreciate it, dear brother. After all, it’s been some days since I’ve been able to talk to another woman. You know we young women like to talk about certain things we are not at liberty to speak of in the presence of men’, Anne smiled as their plates were removed from the table.

‘Should I be worried?’ Lord Babington laughed. 

The girls went to the family drawing room, followed by the housekeeper. But Anne appeared to be on a mission, because as soon as her brother had left the room her shoulders had stiffened and her face became more strained.

‘Actually, could you leave us alone for a minute as well, mrs? We’re just two girls after all. I need to talk to her about a private matter.’

‘As you wish, my lady’, the woman nodded.

‘You could use my personal study in the meantime, or perhaps the servants could offer you a cup of tea?’

‘Thank you, my lady’, the woman nodded.

Anne beckoned a servant to guide the woman before she took Esther inside.

‘Alright, so the past few days?’ Esther immediately asked, correctly guessing what brought about Anne’s inner turmoil.’

‘Oh, Esther, you have no idea! I thought we would have an invalid with a headache over for a week. It’s so much worse, actually. It’s like he’s not even the same person. Well, he is, but his personality gets little time to shine through. He’s ill, and weak. And when we talk he’s so confused, sometimes he doesn’t even know where he is. I worry for him.’

‘It is only natural to worry when you see someone suffering like that.’

‘I’ve been reading this book by Trotter, you know, it was written about a decade ago, called “An Essay on Drunkenness”.’

Esther nodded slowly.

‘Well, I believe Mr. Crowe might suffer from it.’

‘No, really?’ Esther asked, unable to keep her voice from dripping with sarcasm.

‘You mock me.’

‘Well, only because it’s obvious he's a drunk. Where are you going with this?’

‘Well, the book describes that it is very hard for such people to quit. Usually they lie to get a drink, they hide their habits, deny their problems, become angry when they’re being denied. It speaks of people going near mad when they quit.’

Esther raised her eyebrows expectantly.

‘I thought Mr. Crowe was confused because of the blow to his head. But then the first night he appeared to be searching for a bottle. And yesterday morning he asked my brother to bring him a drink. I started suspecting something, and then the doctor came around and confirmed it. He believes his love for drink has something to do with Mr. Crowe’s current state.’

‘Alright.’

‘You can hardly expect someone of his age to be untouched. They have so much knowledge and experience. If his life were a book, he’d already be past the midway point, you know books about men, once they get married the book is over in a chapter or five. We women, our books only start once we start searching husbands, and they stop once we are engaged or ruined. No matter who I take as a husband, his experiences and knowledge will be greater than mine, this does not intimidate me, but to know that even if I were to marry him, our entire future will be shaped by his current drinking habits… It’s a lot. And I’m not even saying that for my sake but for his as well. It’s so difficult to stop, according to this book, though admittedly I’m not that far along yet.’

‘Alright, and what if he doesn’t stop?’ Esther asked, deciding to just let her talk. She was curious to know what the girl was thinking, and had to admit she was surprised she was already thinking this far ahead. She hadn’t understood why the girl decided to fall for a stupid drunk, but clearly this was no slight of fancy. Not that she’d ever tell the girl she’d considered her feelings foolish, they had obviously been very real to her, but she honestly hadn’t thought Anne to be this aware of all the trouble she was getting herself into.

‘I don’t know, everything will stay the same I think. I wouldn’t mind a lot I think. I mean, I fell in love with him the way he is now.’

‘But his drunken shenanigans have gotten him into trouble before. Perhaps he’ll gamble when he’s drunk, and then you’ll be affected too. Many lose a lot of money that way.’

Edward had, when he was drunk.

‘He isn’t a gambler, ‘Anne protested.

‘Anyways, it doesn’t matter’, she sighed. ‘He doesn’t care for me at all. It’s just… hard to see him suffer. My heart breaks for him. He’s usually such a handsome and strong man and he’s reduced to his worst form.’

‘I know it is very difficult to see someone you love suffer. But as you said before, the two of you have no understanding yet. I advise you to keep the appropriate distance, which is hard, especially while living in such close proximity. But if you allow yourself to continue to be this invested and involved in his recovery, you’re going to break down the second he leaves and continues his life without recognizing how much care you bestowed upon him. Your affections will have grown fonder, while his remain unchanged. He doesn’t see what you’re doing, as you said, he’s barely lucid.’

Anne nodded miserably.

‘I never expected love to be this hard.’

‘Love is the worst feeling in the world’, Esther huffed.

Anne looked up in shock. ‘What?’

Immediately, Esther regretted her words. She had given away too much.

‘Is it horrible to love my brother? I thought you two got along so wonderfully?’

‘I- well. I do get along with him very well’, Esther answered meekly.

She had always associated love with misery. That’s what loving Edward had felt like. Playing with fire. A game of tug of war, one taking, the other giving. Feelings of shame and desire and heartache pooling over into another. Growing resentful of all who came between her and Edward. Constantly fighting for his attention. Growing embittered due to his lack of commitment and starting to look at every other female as a potential threat as she grew evermore isolated.

But she’d been wrong.

He had not loved her. She had only loved him. And her love had blinded her, she had not been able to see through his lies and deceit when it came down to her.

There was none of the selflessness, none of the caring, none of peace, none of the natural understanding of two similar minds like in the good romance books, there had only been passion and desire and shame like in the Hardy novels that always had bad ends.

But with Babington… her heart fluttered, nerves constricting her throat. No. She couldn’t go there.

‘It’s just that… Love is like a disease. It infects you and you’re defenceless against it. Love can be nice when you fall for a good person, but that’s down to luck, not love. Love is cruel because you don’t always fall for good men. Some men have issues. Gambling, lying, reckless behaviour. And it’s horrible, because nothing they do changes how you feel about them. You have to watch them and care for them as they go about being horrible, potentially even hurting you, and you have no choice. Too many of my friends have had bad experiences.’

She had a bad experience herself, bad for some indescribable reason she wanted to erase Edward and pretend like he had never happened. It was useless to hide it from Lord Babington and her friends, they knew what had happened, but Anne didn’t.

‘But can’t men change? Especially if they love you and want to be with you?’

‘If they want to change, perhaps. If they don’t want to change, they’ll attack you for pointing out their flaws and will blame circumstances and others for their mistakes.’

‘Luckily you have my brother, Miss Denham. But I understand you. I myself have felt miserable often enough. It only shocked me that you shared such a view, since you have no reason to feel that way. But perhaps, if fate will have mercy on me, I can become happy in love too, and he can become a good person to be in love with.’

‘Yes… Lucky in love’, Esther smiled weakly.

Anne was so confident Esther was in love with Lord Babington. She didn’t even question it, even though Esther hadn’t nuanced her statement about love being miserable. What made her think she was in love with Lord Babington?

The thought of him brought back their conversation earlier today. She had to convince Anne to come along.

‘What always helps to distract you from your feelings is some diversion. I heard you’re not feeling like going to the theatre but I really advise you to go. At home, you’ll be reminded of who else lives underneath this roof. Allow yourself some hours to focus on a piece of art, get lost in the story and talk to other people. On your own it’s hard to change your mood. But amongst a group of friends there’ll be people to make you laugh if you feel like it and here’s people to have a decent conversation with.’

Anne nodded.

‘Perhaps.’

‘It’s not like you can go into his room and talk to him’, Esther offered humorously.

‘No, not really.’

Anne let out a deep sigh.

‘Alright then. I’ll go get my brother, your chaperone and some pencils and sheets of paper’, she smiled.

‘My sister just sent me down. I hope your little conversation went well?’ Lord Babington asked.

‘She agreed to go to the theatre.’

‘That delights me, but I meant your conversation in general’, Lord Babington answered as he took his seat on the couch across of her.

For a little while, they were alone in a room again. They could even sneak in a kiss.

 _Why would I though?_ Esther wondered. Why did she even think of it?

‘In general, we had a good conversation. She’s a young lady and has the concerns of one. I’m a little bit older, so I can only hope my advice helped her in a way.’

‘I’m most grateful. I’m really glad you two get along as well as you do.’

Esther nodded. But, growing uncomfortable with the silence, she decided Lord Babington had initiated enough topics of conversation and that it would only be right for her to show some interest in his life as well.

‘And are your friends alright? Mr. Crowe, I know, could be better.’

The small lines around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. She decided she liked that, his face seemed to be made for laughter.

‘Sidney, Mr. Parker, could do a lot better as well.’

‘Yes?’

‘A lot better, as a matter of fact. He is not happy. Before Crowe took ill, the three of us were trying to contact certain interested buyers and investors. We planned on having Sidney make a trip to the continent and around the whole of England. We would claim it to be urgent business. We planned for the trip to take months, long enough that the banns couldn’t even be read in the nearby future. We hoped that during those months, we could find another solution to his brother’s financial trouble.’

‘He… He’s trying to find a way to abandon his fiancée?’

‘It’s, very bad for both their reputations, I know. They would need some image restauration, but it’s much preferable to having the both of them be unhappy forever.’

‘And is he…’

‘He is still trying to find a way to be together with Miss Heywood. He doesn’t dare to tell her anything, since there’s such a small chance of success. But he really wishes to keep the promise he made to marry her.’

‘Oh dear.’

Esther remained quiet for a while, reorganizing her thoughts.

‘But… You know, Charlotte’s quite distraught. And personally, I want her to get over this. I don’t want her to remain miserable and alone, hoping for a miracle that might never happen.’

‘I’m not asking her to. And I’m not asking you to encourage Miss Heywood to wait. Currently, his hope of finding a way out of his engagement and into the arms of Miss Heywood is the only thing that keeps him going. I know that it is advantageous to Charlotte to process her feelings concerning him just as much as it is essential for Sidney to cling onto his feelings for her. It is a very sad tale.’

‘I understand.’

‘Fate is… cruel in a way.’

‘How so?’

Lord Babington bit his lip. It appeared he wasn’t too eager to share his thoughts this time, as he was looking at the ground and toying with the fabric of the couch while he considered his words.

‘I was fully convinced Sidney had a better chance of finding happiness, that night of the ball. And I thought to myself, well surely, no one could ever be so eager to receive a proposal as Miss Heywood, and no man could be more ready for marriage than Sidney. And after all the suffering he’d gone through with Mrs. Campion in the past, I was so happy he found love again. He really deserved it.’

He hadn’t expected Esther to accept him.

He had expected Sidney to marry Charlotte instead. Or perhaps, even if he was lucky enough to marry Esther, he had expected to marry at the same time as his best friend.

Because Charlotte had been accepting of Sidney’s pursuit, while Esther had been anything but. It made sense.

She’d told him she could never love someone like him, had even told him she didn’t care for him at all on the night they got engaged.

She was an unwilling bride as far as he was concerned.

But, hadn’t she told him she’d stay with him despite his wealth? Hadn’t she told him she even considered…well… to be with him like a real wife.

Surely, he knew by now they were just as deserving of a marriage as Charlotte and Sidney were.

But… what if he didn’t?

‘I’ve got it!’ Anne cried as she ran in, Lady Denham’s housekeeper in tow.

She deposited a pencil and and a sketchpad onto Esther’s lap as she sat down next to her.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked with a smile.

The moment was lost. She would have no chance to speak of it again. She looked at the sketchpad on her lap.

If she drew him in an unflattering manner, would he interpret it as her not liking him yet again?

Anne was smiling sweetly as she put her pencil to the sheet of paper. She had nothing to fear. Whether she drew her brother in a good or a bad way, it mattered not. Esther felt the pressure.

She decided to start with the overall shape of his head. It was a round one, which she didn’t feel too bad to draw. But when she decided to start with his nose, her confidence crumbled. It was a rather round one, but she didn’t wish to draw it too broad.

It looked violently large on paper though. 

Steeling herself, she tried to make it look as distinct and good as possible. _Alright, a bad nose it was._

Then his eyebrow. No, delicately, delicately… alright, they looked acceptable.

Her ear was drawn back to the conversation.

‘You’ll be delighted to hear that mother has written to me. She has decided to come to London after.’

‘Oh will she, when shall she arrive?’

‘Less than a week. Five days will be a lot, she'll probably arrive in less.’

Esther tensed.

‘A week?’

‘She very much wishes to meet you.’

‘Me?’

‘Well yes, you. You shall be a part of the family soon and she wishes to meet you. You will be in London still, by the end of next week?’

‘I… I guess.’

Anne too had grown silent, probably reconsidering the arrangement they had with Mr. Crowe.

‘Say we show him in five?’ Anne asked, deciding to change the topic.

Esther agreed, and decided to focus on his hair instead. She did like his hair, and was quite good at drawing it too.

Then came his eyes. But how could she capture them? They looked pleasant enough, sweet and small, and crinkling when he smiled. They looked so good, but how could she portray them without making him look either like a child or an old man?

‘How are you faring Esther?’

‘Not too good I’m afraid.’

‘Me neither.’

‘I’m bad at drawing people.’

Anne nodded, biting her lip as she switched her position so she could draw better.

When Lord Babington said: ‘Alright ladies, your time is up’, Esther felt like no time at all had passed.

‘A minute to finish up perhaps?’ Anne suggested upon noticing Esther’s alarmed look.

Esther nodded and quickly drew some more lines to add to the messy look of the sketch and to hide the harsher lines she had drawn. But there was little shielding the quality of the overall result.

Anne’s drawing was, well, not as great either. He had a perfectly round had and a rather large nose, but his eyes were rather good, although he appeared to be balding. Meanwhile, Esther had drawn his hair, eyebrows and clothes well, but his nose and eyes left a lot to be desired.

‘Most sobering images’, Lord Babington decided light-heartedly.

‘I only draw what I see, dear brother.’

But his eyes remained focussed on Esther’s drawing.

‘Really, I mentioned beforehand I wasn’t a good drawer of people’, Esther defended.

‘Yet, you cannot draw that which isn’t there.’

‘I could draw a rose and make it look ugly’, she shot back as she started drawing a most primitive ugly rose.

‘See?’

She knew it was a bold statement, but it had the desired effect. A small smile grew on his face.

‘You said you were good at drawing plants.’

‘I am, but you know what I mean. In the hands of a poor artist, even a handsome man can look bad. And I’m nowhere near a good artist.’

‘And I’m nowhere near handsome probably.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly. You insult your genes by saying such things. Our parents cannot have made an ugly child’, Anne replied easily.

Esther couldn’t help but smile, yet, it still sat badly with her that he thought she didn’t consider him attractive. Or perhaps he didn’t even consider himself attractive.

But she felt like she had already shared too much of her heart, and didn’t dare to defend his looks further.

She took her conflicted emotions home with her.

He didn’t think she was attracted to him.

Nor did he believe she was in love with him either.

She didn’t know why it irritated her, although, perhaps irritated wasn’t the wrong word.

She felt guilty. But not guilty in the way she felt undeserving of his love before, but guilty because she kept information from him. And she felt awful for not comforting him, it was an odd sensation, feeling responsible for the mood of another being.

Because she did consider him handsome, yet had not comforted him by saying so.

And it had been a long time since she considered his presence a nuisance. Instead she had come to enjoy his company.

And then there were his personality and his preferences which she had come to like.

And the way he looked when he laughed.

The looks he gave her when they were close.

The way he made her smile.

The way he understood her so easily.

And then there were the inexplainable times she wondered about kissing him. And the times she kissed him and felt like she couldn’t stop. And the times where she imagined a future with him... And the instances she considered what would happen after the marriage ceremony without being horrified or fearful.

It were all signs of a feeling that had been quietly growing in the background, gone unanalysed for two months so those precious feelings weren’t put under any form of pressure.

But, now fully fledged, her feelings started seeping through, making themselves known in a myriad of ways.

She’d pushed the thoughts away as soon as they presented themselves every time, but they were getting harder and harder to ignore.

She had promised herself she would start trying to be kind to him, but had failed to do so consistently. But she had fulfilled her promise to learn more about him, and there hadn’t been a thing she’d learned that had given her reason to dislike him.

She had been completely free to feel about him as she liked. She didn’t have to pretend to dislike him to please Edward, she didn’t have to pretend to like Babington to gain his hand, he did not even expect her to love him. Even her aunt had stopped telling her how to behave. She was completely free, and there had been no need to behave or feel a certain way.

When she ignored her insecurities and her twisted mind, when she refrained from overanalysing and acted on impulse, she always seemed to inch closer towards him. It was only when she started thinking and grew self-conscious that she kept her distance. But it was growing harder to do so.

She felt awful for not having given in to her impulses to comfort him and talk to him. She didn’t feel like she owed him her kindness, although he had certainly earned it. Instead, she wanted to give him her kindness because she wanted him to be happy.

Her thoughts kept her up all night, the relief of sleep only coming in the hour before dawn.

The previous evening was not the last run-in with the limits of her own artistic abilities. The next day she stood in the garden with Charlotte and Georgiana, painting a certain rose bush to kill the time.

‘Any interesting news from Lord Babington?’ Georgiana asked.

‘His mother is coming.’

‘You’re going to meet his mother?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Apparently.’

‘And? Are you looking forward to it?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not exactly against it I think. I was nervous to meet his sister and those fears appeared to be unfounded. This will be fine too. Otherwise it’s going to be an awkward marriage, since we are to live together’, Esther shrugged.

‘When she sees you love him, she’ll be kind to you. Isn’t all that a mother wants is for her children to be happy?’ Charlotte smiled.

‘And how am I supposed to show that?’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ asked Georgiana.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Come on, you’re so obviously in love with each other. Whenever you’re in the same room you always float to each other, talk together like the rest of the room doesn’t exist, and you’re constantly looking at each other when you’re not together.’

‘That’s preposterous’, Esther laughed.

‘You… Don’t love him?’ Charlotte asked.

‘I… I _like_ him.’

‘You like him? Why are you marrying if you only like him?’

‘I… I got engaged because…’ Esther froze. She could perfectly understand her own reasoning, but she didn’t know how to word it without it coming off wrong.

‘You didn’t just get engaged to prove everyone you weren’t in love with Edward?’ asked Georgiana in shock, clearly linking Edward’s outburst with her subsequent engagement in the worst possible way.

‘Heavens no! There was a lot more to it.’

‘But nothing more than liking him?’

‘I- I don’t… I don’t _just_ like him’, Esther defended.

‘But you’re together all the time, you smile every time you receive a letter of him. If it’s not just liking him, what is it you feel… exactly?’

‘I…’

She clutched onto her pencil, but didn’t manage to bring it to her canvas anymore, her hand was shaking too much. She gave up and turned away from her canvas and the other girls.

‘I don’t know what love is supposed to be like anymore. I thought I was in love once, and it almost cost me everything. I don’t want to place myself in such a vulnerable position anymore. And so many things I was sure of, I turned out to be wrong about… How can I be sure of what I feel? And whether it’s a good thing to feel?’

She knew her sentences were probably one confusing mess, but she couldn’t organise her thoughts, her mind was too full, her heart beating too wildly.

‘Esther… I don’t quite follow. Does this have to do with Edward?’ Charlotte asked softly.

 _I don’t want it to have to do with Edward. I wish he were out of my life for good. I’ve been fighting to wash away every bit of his influence._ But yes, yes. He had made her uncertain. He had ruined her confidence and trust. She knew Babington was nothing like him. She knew he was open and transparent about his feelings and intentions. She knew he would not lie to her, he was willing to share his entire life and wealth with her. Yet, despite there being no reason to fear, she feared. 

Esther nodded softly.

‘Edward was a horrible person, Esther. From what I’ve seen, Lord Babington is everything but that. He won’t abuse your feelings for him. It’s alright to be vulnerable around him, especially since you’re being married’, Charlotte said carefully with a reassuring smile, placing her hand comfortingly on Esther’s shoulder.

‘Listen, I felt betrayed too. And I was uncertain as well. I hated myself for loving Otis. And I doubted my judgement like never before. But, it has to stop. Whatever happened, that was you and Edward. This is you and your fiancé. I’m afraid to love again as well, and I doubt myself all the time… However although I doubt whether what I am feeling is a good thing to feel and I question if I should act upon my feelings… I don’t doubt _what_ my feelings are. And I don’t think you aren’t sure of what you are feeling either. So Esther, try to be honest with yourself, it’s only to your own benefit. What is it you feel for him?’

‘I…’

Just the thought of him sent her heart flying out of her chest again.

‘Esther!’

She could feel two pairs of arms around her, two faces hovering nearby. She was shaking.

All three were sitting on the ground.

When had she sunk through her knees?

‘I…’

‘Maybe some smaller questions?’ Charlotte offered.

‘Are you attracted to him?’

There was little use in denying, but she’d barely been honest about it to herself.

She gave a small nod.

‘Do you like spending time with him?’

‘Yes’, she answered, taking a big enough breath to fill her entire lungs. This question she felt confident enough to answer.

‘And you like getting to know him?’

‘Yes.’

‘And… Have you kissed already?’ Charlotte asked hesitantly.

Another nod.

‘And how did you feel then?’

Like the world was swept away from her feet and she existed on an entirely other plane of existence. The whole world could have burned and she wouldn’t have noticed.

‘I can’t even describe it’, she huffed with a laugh, wiping away a rogue tear.

‘And would you like to do more of that?’ asked Georgiana.

‘Yes.’

‘And do you look forward to being alone with him, being able to talk about everything and nothing, seeing his face every day, spending quiet moments together and sharing sunsets?’ asked Charlotte, her own heart aching for the things she’d dreamt about but couldn’t have.

‘Gods, yes.’

‘Do you want to make him happy, and feel bad when he’s not?’

Another rogue tear escaped, memories of the previous evening coming back to her.

‘Yes.’

The other two remained quiet.

‘I’m in love with him.’

Charlotte and Georgiana had the respect to remain silent as Esther accepted the fact that had been evident to them.

‘But’, she started.

‘But what could go wrong if you loved him?’ asked Georgiana, not allowing Esther time to crawl back out of fear.

‘I- He…’

He wouldn’t abuse her love.

He had been clear he loved her back.

She was already assured of his hand in marriage.

And she was already confident they connected on all levels, ranging from humour, to intimacy, to personality and interests.

There was no reason to fear.

‘It’s alright to be scared, especially when you’ve been hurt before. But there’s no reason to hate yourself for having fallen in love. And there’s no reason to hold back on being happy and feeling what you do for your fiancé because of a disappointment that’s entirely separate of him. Especially when you’re sure that there’s no reason to be afraid’, Georgiana comforted her.

She was in love.

She _was_ in love.

She was in _love_ with Lord Babington.

‘So to go back to our previous topic of conversation’, Charlotte said as they all got up again.

‘Lady Babington will like you, because it’s evident her son is happy with his amazing and loving fiancée.’

Esther laughed then, although her heart felt heavy.

She was exhausted from the conversation, although she could almost feel the shackles she’d placed on her mind snapping in two.

All suppressed thoughts came flooding to the forefront, finally free to roam and be thought.

All the thoughts she’d cut off before they were finished got their endings now.

‘I… I need some time’, she murmured. The other girls said nothing as Esther wobbled back towards the house to sort through her feelings and thoughts in private.

Her behaviour and feelings suddenly made such sense.

She had never understood how Lord Babington seemed to be able to love so freely, expecting nothing in return. But now, she found herself wanting to give him attention, affection and affirmation without him ever having asked her to give it.

Just a month ago, she’d wondered whether it was possible to endure months and years of his love while still being indifferent to him, it turned out it didn’t even take a full month. And perhaps, if there had never been an Edward, she would have fallen in love with him even before then.

She hadn’t heard Edward in her mind for weeks, yet it still wasn’t enough. Edward had still existed. Edward had made her doubt men. Edward had made her doubt herself. And Edward had taken away the innocence and delight of love. She wished she could have brought a pure heart to her wedding. But that couldn’t be, the past couldn’t be undone, but she could move on and offer him her mended heart.

_‘Love is no transaction, Esther. You don’t need to give or prove anything to earn someone’s love. And I wish you to have it, as long as you wish to have it.’_

She could still hear Babington’s words in her head. She hadn’t believed him then, but she believed him now. Believed them because she felt the same way. She wanted to give him her love, freely, as much as he gave her his.

And now her heart was too full of it to keep it in any longer, it overflowed with a most violent love, so violent she almost wished to hide from it.

She thought back of all the moments she had already felt it, but had not dared to recognise it for what it was, and now thought of those moments as lost opportunities.

But as much as she felt like he deserved and earned her love, as much as she wanted to give her love, she cowered, knowing she would have to _say_ those words. They could only delight him, she knew, yet, she felt protective of her precious young feelings.

_No, I must tell him, he has a right to know._

She could try to drop a hint at the theatre tonight, if they happened to be seated next to one another, she decided.

‘They will surely laugh once they discover we have dressed similarly’, Georgiana sighed as she checked the blue ribbons in her hair a final time.

‘As we did when we decided upon it’, Charlotte smiled, stroking her blue skirts.

‘The three of you are a silly sight’, Lady Denham sighed when she noticed the three figures dressed in blue awaiting her in the hall. They cleverly didn’t mention how she still clung onto her dresses from twenty years ago.

‘Luckily silliness is an accepted quality of girls your age’, she decided, nodding at the valet to open the door and lead them to their carriage.

They were neither on time, nor early, as the play hadn’t started yet.

Mentioning they were guests of Lord Babington, they were immediately assigned someone to guide them to Lord Babington’s box, because _of course_ he had one. They were guided past a lavish grand emerald saloon with painted ceiling where people were mingling, past grand sweeping staircases, and marched underneath huge burning chandeliers decorated with diamonds and glass.

There were five big ornate doors on the second balcony level leading to the most ornate and large of all boxes of this level. The other doors were smaller and less ornate. The person guiding them opened the door. Esther had never seen a box like this one, there was a whole antechamber, although small, with an elegant couch underneath a mirror. Despite that only two small chandelier attached to the walls illuminated the antechamber, it was clear that all walls were furbished with an expensive red damask fabric. Light streamed into the chamber from the theatre as well.

They could already see a couple of figures standing near the edge, two tall men and one small woman. The balcony was a bit lower so they took the three steps down to reach it and meet their fellow guests.

The Denham ladies and their two companions found the Darcy couple, together with Mr. Darcy’s cousin; Colonel Fitzwilliam.

As they were introduced to the colonel, a servant came by to mention that Lord Babington was stuck in the long row of carriages outside.

Esther was too distracted to attend to the conversation, instead drinking from the wine her aunt had purchased to quieten her frazzled nerves. However, she could see how Georgiana seemed to be particularly entertained by Colonel Fitzwilliam. She walked around the balcony, her fingers tracing the patterns of the cushiony fabric on the sides as she took in the large theatre, the gilded columns, the dazzling chandeliers and the stately stage itself. She wondered what hid behind the red curtains. What gorgeous backdrops and lovely costumes would she see?

The amount of care that was put into a single box was astonishing. Both sides of the balcony were padded so tired watchers could lean against them, while at the same time being guaranteed privacy from nearby boxes. They could be seen from side-boxes further down the row, but could not be heard. The balustrade was padded as well, so the people sitting on the front row of the balcony could comfortably lean on the edge with their arms. The only thing interrupting the sea of red was the mighty large Dorian column with gilded fern leaves on the left side of the box.

‘Agatha, is that you?’ an old woman asked, hovering near the entrance of their box.

Lady Denham turned around, spotting the old woman.

‘Ah, who have we here?’

‘I thought it was you. I spotted you from a few boxes over and I thought… No, you, in London? I thought you never left your late husband’s estate.’

‘I’m not in the habit of doing so, no. But since my niece is to marry her Lord Babington, I thought I could allow for one trip.’

‘Oh, and who is your niece?’

‘This one’, Lady Denham replied, easily grabbing Esther by her arm. Esther managed to give a polite nod.

‘Would you like to catch up with a dear old friend?’ the woman asked Lady Denham.

‘Well, seeing that the host of our box has not yet arrived I’m afraid not. But you can tell me where you are and I shall seek you out’, Lady Denham decided.

She still had her arrogant airs, but Esther was surprised just how enthusiastic Lady Denham appeared to be to catch up with this old friend of hers.

The lady gave her box number, and Lady Denham returned to the conversation with the Darcy’s. Lord Babington and Anne appeared just minutes before the show started, two young boys trailing right behind them with champagne bottles, ice buckets and stands.

‘I apologize for our tardiness, I’m not usually one to miss the show, but it appeared many people arrived at the same time as we did. However, I hope I can make up for my absence with champagne’, he announced jovially. Esther averted her eyes as the people gathered let out their acceptance, spending only two seconds to insist that such a gift was unnecessary, before quickly accepting glasses of cooled champagne.

‘My dear?’

A glass of champagne, the outside condensed with droplets of water due to the hot temperature of the theatre, was held in front of her.

She put her empty glass of wine down on one of the small side tables, and accepted the proffered drink, looking him in the eye to thank him. Anne came to greet her, before moving on to greet the others.

‘I hope you don’t mind, Lord Babington, but I have been offered to join another friend in a box. I’m sure all you youths will manage to keep each other in check?’ Lady Denham asked.

Lord Babington agreed, swearing upon the virtuousness of all men present, before Lady Denham took her leave.

Esther hovered near the back, taking in all the seats. There were four seats at the front of the box, three seats on the second row, two seats on the third row and a last seat standing on one of the steps to the balcony, right in front of the curtains that were now tied to the sides of the passageway from the antechamber to the balcony.

She carefully watched the others, as the others deliberated the seating arrangements.

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy would definitely sit together, and they were hovering close to the balustrade. Colonel Fitzwilliam would probably sit next to his cousin…

But perhaps the front row was destined for Lord Babington, as they were the best seats.

She hoped not. They could not exchange anything without all the others noticing if that were to be the case.

Perhaps, if she refrained from sitting long enough, and he came to her, they could manage to get some seats in the back.

Georgiana laughed as Colonel Fitzwilliam kept her from falling over a chair. They were the first to sit down.

Anne, it seemed, was the second person to voice an opinion on the seating arrangement, excusing herself for being tired and opting for a seat to the side on the second row, ready to rest her head against the side of the box. Charlotte shot a look at Esther, who nodded while keeping her position in the back. And so Charlotte decided to sit behind Georgiana and next to Anne, assured of being able to follow the theatre without being disrupted. No doubt that a lover of culture like Charlotte wished for nothing more than the absorb the first and probably only time she would be able to see a London theatre show, and from such excellent seats.

Lord Babington had been standing behind his sister, pouring himself a second glass, when he threw her a curious look. She managed to lift the left corner of her mouth into an innocent smile before she took another swig, being quite evident about how comfortable she was, standing on the back of the balcony.

‘Would you-‘ Mr. Darcy asked softly of Lord Babington.

‘Not at all, my friend, I’ve seen this play before, go ahead’, he smiled.

And so it happened, that Esther got the exact seats she desired. She knew that if Lady Denham had been present, she would have ended up on the second row, Babington on one side, and Lady Denham on the other, or on the first one with Lord Babington with Lady Denham breathing down her neck. No, this was much preferable.

‘Not interested in the play, Miss Denham?’

‘What? I can still see from here, can I not?’ Esther pointed out with all confidence that was habitual of her cold yet charming façade.

‘That you can’, Babington admitted intrigued, taking a seat beside her.

Their seats were neither too close nor too far apart. She felt the proximity of his arm on his armrest most keenly, and was very aware of his scent.

Amber and bergamot. She took a deep breath. Forcing herself to calm down.

‘Have you seen it before?’

‘What, “She Stoops to Conquer”? No, I have not’, she replied.

‘I shall remain silent then’, he decided as the curtains drew.

‘Really, there’s no need’, she started, turning around when he went to stand. She hoped he wouldn’t leave her alone. He merely untied the strings of the curtains, preventing the light from the antechamber from seeping through, before he returned to his seat.

‘It’s fine, really.’

‘But what if I am interested in your opinion on the piece?’ she challenged as she kept her eyes fixed on the stage.

He chuckled quietly.

‘Do you now?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I require it.’

‘Very well. I would not wish to go against my lady’s wishes.’

‘Nor should you’, she agreed with a smile.

They lasted two scenes without talking.

‘What would your aunt say of us sitting in the back like this?’

‘No doubt something she thinks is witty. But she isn’t here now, is she?’ Esther asked, quirking an eyebrow as she awaited his reply.

He was toying with the cuffs of his black coat as he looked at her.

‘She isn’t. But I dare say she’d be scandalized.’

‘Why would she be? Are we doing something we shouldn’t?’

‘We’re not’, he smiled.

She liked the way the dip in his chin became even more pronounced when he smiled. She threw a look at the stage as if she was paying attention, but she had no idea what the characters were doing.

‘And didn’t you vouch for the virtue of all men present?’

‘I did.’

‘So, I am perfectly safe.’

‘You will always be, Miss Denham. I promise you I wouldn’t dare place you in situations you didn’t wish to be in.’

‘Hmph’, Esther huffed. Looking at the stage with a pout, building the anticipation with a prolonged silence.

She could feel his eyes upon her.

‘It’s only that you forgot something’, she shrugged before taking a careless sip of her flute of champagne.

‘And what is that?’ he asked as he watched her index finger trace the length of the champagne flute.

‘You didn’t vouch for the ladies’ behaviour’, she drawled slowly, her finger slowly sliding down the length of the glass and stem before she took another sip.

‘What was that?’ he asked. Esther gave him a pointed look, raising her eyebrows. She’d truly managed to distract him, and she wanted him to know she was aware of his lack of focus.

‘You didn’t say anything about us ladies having to behave in a virtuous manner.’

‘I saw no need, you are all perfect creatures’, he smiled innocently.

‘If you say so’, she decided.

He smiled but his eyes didn’t crinkle, Esther noted, he was trying to appear more at ease than he actually was.

Contented with the current agitated state she’d managed to get him into, she decide to give some attention to the play.

The first break rolled around, and everyone got up. Mr. Darcy decided to order the next round of champagne, while Elisabeth, Anne, Georgiana and Charlotte decided to check the stage from up close.

Standing on the outside of the box, Colonel Fitzwilliam lingered behind, talking about the play with Lord Babington as Esther took in all the people fluttering to and fro in the pit. There was a lot of animated talk as groups of friends connected and other friends were found between the rows.

‘Enjoying the show so far?’ Lord Babington asked.

Esther tried to hide her surprise, the sound of his steps had been swallowed by the carpet so she hadn’t heard him coming.

‘Oh yes, most entertaining’, she agreed, stealing a glance over her shoulder. He smiled and took a step closer to her.

‘So, you come here often?’

Lord Babington nodded.

‘Not as often as I should, given that I own a box, but often enough. And I lend it to friends all the time as well, so the seats aren’t wasted.’

Esther nodded, allowing him to continue his story in case there was more to be added.

‘Although I wish that I could pay attention to the plays more often.’

‘How come?’

‘Well, after parliament, I sometimes come here to continue discussions. You know, for us Londoners it is not uncommon to sometimes arrive almost an hour and a half late. And sometimes I’m only here for business.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes. And that’s not just me, I believe there’s maybe a box or ten I don’t know the owner of. We all move within the same circles, and almost everyone’s involved in politics in some way’, he explained.

‘So there is some truth to people coming here to exchange gossip and do politics?’

‘I’m afraid so. Not really respectful towards the actors, but then I take it the actors are already quite happy to work at a place where no food is thrown at them.’

Esther nodded slowly. ‘Oh, for sure. Although perhaps, they see that as a downside, one way less to get food on the table.’

Babington let out a laugh, and Esther couldn’t hold off her smile any longer.

‘Miss Denham, you are wicked.’

‘Must be a shocker. However will you cope with me, John?’ she asked teasingly.

‘I’ll have you know, those actresses are as often up here in the boxes, having dinner with certain men, as they eat at home’, he answered back.

‘Oh?’

‘You saw the lady playing the part of Kate?’

‘Yes?’

‘She slept with… You know… Last year.’

‘No way’, Esther brought out in astonishment, yet she could not keep the smile off of her face.

‘Mhm’, he smiled. ‘Why so surprised, _my dear_ , his private life is quite well known. She wouldn’t be the first actress to sleep with him.’

She might have teased him by affectionately calling him by his first name, but he was just as ready to laugh and tease her back in an affectionate manner.

‘She’s rather pretty and young.’

‘And he’s rather royal’, he countered.

‘I’m sure that doesn’t make him attractive to all women.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘I don’t know what he looks like, but if he looks anything like he does in the cartoons’, Esther started, shaking her head unable to finish the sentence she started.

‘Perhaps those are drawn by men with your talent for drawing people?’ he suggested.

‘You’re horrible’, she cried, turning towards him. He laughed and took a step back.

He raised his hands in defeat. Actually, she reasoned, this was the perfect opportunity to right yesterday’s wrongs.

‘I meant it yesterday’, she started softly. ‘About being able to make a rose look ugly.’

‘Really Esther, there’s no need.’

‘Let me finish’, she warned him. Her words stuck in her throat, she didn’t know what to say, all sentences she had prepared the previous night ran together in one jumbled mess. She took a deep breath, averting her eyes. ‘I really don’t believe you’re ugly.’

‘Perhaps I might even go so far as to call you handsome’, she admitted with a smirk.

He picked up on her struggle, and cherished the compliment and attempt at humour.

‘I’d say you’d have to go quite far to call me that. Perhaps if you stood there on the stage, and looked back at me standing here, you might say such a thing. What is it they say? Pretty from afar, but far from pretty?’, he laughed as he stretched his arm, pointing to a certain spot on the stage.

She sighed and batted down his arm, holding his hand down with her own. Goosebumps chased up her arms because of the contact. He too grew quiet, staring at their joined hands. He spread his fingers, her own easily slipping between them. His hand was cool to the touch.

‘You silly man’, she sighed, rolling her eyes.

‘Soon to be your silly man’, he teased, but his voice carried none of its usual confidence.

She knew what had to be said, and she wasn’t too afraid to speak now. Instead, her simple answer spoke for itself, and carried all the additional meaning she wanted her words to have.

‘My silly man’, she agreed.

His chin trembled, his mouth falling open ever so slightly. She leaned forward, aching to know his reaction, but it was not to be. She could hear a door opening and laughter flooding in. They withdrew their hands, and she quickly turned towards the stage again, pretending to gaze at the auditorium.

‘You know, you could have come down with us instead of just watching from way up here. It seems so small from up here, but it’s so large up close’, Charlotte explained.

‘Is it?’ Esther asked with a smile as she tended to her friends. Lord Babington wordlessly escaped from the balcony, and only returned minutes later with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam on his side.

The second act started, and all were seated again.

They were silent, but Esther still felt the effects of the previous conversation in the air between them. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was different. The air was… Charged in a way.

Finishing her glass of champagne, she passed him her glass for a refill as she kept her eyes glued to the stage, feeling that every move, every glance, was too meaningful.

She followed his movements from the corner of her eye. Lifting the bottle, drying it off with the towel lying on the side of the champagne stand.

‘Esther?’ he asked softly, offering her the filled glass.

She reached out for it, three fingers curling around the stem and the bottom of the flute. His second hand came up, softly wrapping itself around her own. She looked up briefly, and was shocked to see the storm brewing behind his eyes. She carefully withdrew, placing her glass on the table next to her, before hesitantly leaning her arm on her armrest, her palm turned up towards him as she looked back at the stage.

She could feel his fingers slowly sliding across her arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The way they dragged across her hand before sliding between her own was almost sensual.

She bit her cheek, supressing the shiver running across her limbs. 

It was fine for them to hold hands in public. Even if people could see them there was nothing wrong with them doing so. And despite the heat in her belly, she knew she only felt indecent doing it because she felt too much for him in this instant. To her it wasn’t just holding hands, she was _offering_ her hand.

She had admitted her first truth during the first break, and now Lord Babington was seeking out contact with her. Perhaps he was already doing the mental calculations of what her confession could mean regarding her feelings for him.

She froze when she felt his thumb softly sweep across the soft flesh between her index finger and her thumb. It sucked the air out of her lungs. Despite her stubborn attempt to focus on the play, the scene blurred in front of her as she was catapulted back towards their kisses, when his hands had held her shoulders and her back. She felt a heat building up, radiating from her chest and chasing away any remaining chills she had.

She did not know how to play the game and only managed to hold his hand as his thumb swept across of her hand again, this time slowly dragging over her thumb.

Was he… seducing her?

Testing her boundaries?

Or merely expressing his own love for her?

She decided that although she felt the need to confirm her love, she would pull whenever he tugged, instead of giving in and showing how much he affected her. She was too proud to do otherwise. So she schooled her expression in a neutral one and continued to watch the play.

He continued his ministrations for another five minutes, before lifting his fingers, seemingly wanting to draw back his hand. She quickly clamped her fingers around his hand, keeping it in her own.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she paid him no mind. His attentions were desired, but she did not wish to show just how much he affected her. Understanding that she had not merely been undergoing the self-indulgent liberties he took, he quickly resumed his tender ministrations.

The second break rolled around and this time, she quickly agreed to take a turn about the saloon with Anne, throwing a last smile at Lord Babington before she left.

‘I’m so glad you insisted I came, Esther. I admit I was a bit sleepy during the first act, but I had such fun during the first break and during the second act. I always do love Mrs. Darcy’s humour, and Miss Heywood is almost right up there with her.’

‘I’m glad you’re having a good time.’

‘I am. I do love a good romantic comedy, do you?’

‘I haven’t seen many, but I’m enjoying it so far.’

‘Can you see enough from where you’re sitting? I do feel quite sorry for the seating arrangements. You and your friends haven’t been to London before, have you? I know Miss Heywood hasn’t. We should have made sure the three of you were on the front row together with my brother.’

‘No really, it’s fine. I could see perfectly.’

‘I find that hard to believe, shoved in the back like thar.’ 

Esther didn’t deign that worthy of an answer.

‘Or perhaps, you could see all that you wanted to’, Anne reasoned.

Esther merely lifted an eyebrow at her statement.

‘Nobody ever pays attention to the people sitting in the back. There’s a great deal of privacy over there, and in the meantime you can watch all of us.’

Esther smirked.

‘You got me, what can I say?’

‘I shall pretend to be blind to it, of course. An engaged couple is allowed some privacy’, Anne smiled conspiratorially.

‘I really don’t wish to know what you are imagining we do. We’ve only been watching the show. I believe we barely exchanged some twenty words during the second act.’

Anne nodded, but her smug face told Esther that Anne had decided just what was happening behind her back. Truth be told, Esther probably wouldn’t mind the fantasy Anne had created.

They were interrupted halfway through their turn around the room by a lady who hosted a book club Anne frequented the past winter and previous summer, but she had not yet come this summer, and the hostess was most excited to have her back. Especially since some amongst their midst had started writing themselves.

‘No doubt Keats will have something to say on that’, Anne laughed heartily.

‘He cares not for us, and we shall not care for him. We have society to back us, who is he, but a sickly young boy who likes to have an opinion on anything and everything?’ the lady asked with a smile, before looking up at Esther.

Esther had only ever heard of Keats this year, and only a mere mention, a young poet she knew, who had not yet published his first book.

‘You can take your friend with you, if you like?’ the lady suggested.

‘Oh, this is no mere friend. Mrs. Richter, allow me to introduce you to Miss Denham, my brother’s fiancée.’

‘Ah, so this is the lady I’ve heard about. I’m glad I now finally have a face to go along with the name’, the woman nodded. Esther returned the greeting.

‘When is the wedding to be?’

‘In august.’

‘Oh, but August starts in less than a week!’ the lady brought out.

‘It’s in in about three weeks’, Esther admitted.

‘How wonderful dear, I’m looking forward to seeing more of you the next season. It was about time Lord Babington added a lady to our circle.’

Esther gave her a polite smile, thinking back on the cruel lady in the shop. Some did not share that opinion. Was this lady merely trying to be nice, or was she actually glad he introduced someone new in their circle instead of marrying within it?

‘I’m excited to meet all of Lord Babington’s and Lady Anne’s friends and connections as well’, she answered.

The conversation was ended quickly, and the ladies returned to their box.

As they arrived on top of the stairs, she spotted Lord Babington standing at a nearby box talking with some other men. Anne walked past him quickly, Esther following in suit. But while Anne skipped through the antechamber to re-join the company, Esther took her time to study the décor of the antechamber, before her eye fell on her own reflection in the little mirror. She carefully twisted some curls back in shape around her face.

She noticed a figure appearing in the dark behind her. Stealing a glance at the balcony, she noticed the curtains still hung in front of the entrance. Nobody could look into the antechamber. Looking back, she now clearly saw it was Lord Babington, dressed in all black, who approached her.

‘You look beautiful.’

‘I tried my best,’ she replied.

The air was heavy between them, but she did not look away this time.

‘Do you approve?’ she smiled.

‘You don’t need my approval’, he breathed in a near perfect repeat of a conversation they’d had during the ball.

He brushed the thick curls that had slid to her back, back to their usual place draping over her right shoulder.

‘But yes, you have it.’

After they had been restored in place, his hand remained on her shoulder.

‘Will your hand stay there to keep my hair in place for the remainder of the evening, Lord Babington?’

‘Do you wish it to?’ he asked softly.

‘I would not be opposed to it.’

He took another step forward, removing the last bit of distance between them, hand still in place as he nuzzled the left side of her neck. This close, she could not hide the effect he had on her as she gasped for breath. Her body took over from her mind, her neck intuitively inclined to the side to offer him better access. She could feel his free hand on her hip, sparking a second fire there as his lips finally connected with the tender flesh of her neck.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, but before she breathed in again, all sensations disappeared. His hand fell away from her shoulder, his hot breath dissipated, and his intoxicating presence was removed as he jumped back.

A creak of the door had interrupted them. He quickly turned towards the door while Esther, wobbly legged, and feeling quite dizzy, stumbled through the curtains to her seat, evacuating the scene.

She could still feel the cold where before his warm lips had been. Her heart was pounding in her chest. There were no words to describe her urgent need for him, her limbs were shaking and her fingers were tingling with excitement. She didn’t look up at anyone, feeling entirely too indecent and conscious after what had transpired. But thankfully no one was looking at her, as the third act had already begun.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had apparently been the last person to return and the one who had ruined their little moment. He slipped past her quietly, trying to make his tall figure look as small as possible on his way back to his seat.

Lord Babington was the last to come to the balcony. She could feel it when he appeared from between the curtains, slipping behind her chair so he could take up his seat next to her.

She grabbed for her glass of champagne, her throat suddenly dry like a dessert, but the liquid had grown hot. She kept her face as neutral as possible when she knocked back the remnants, offering her glass to Lord Babington to ask for a refill. She needed to cool down.

He quietly took her glass, filling it and handing it back. She quickly took a sip, and could almost pinpoint where the cool liquid seeped down her digestive system.

Their hands found each other again.

They observed the play as the Charles Marlow tried to kiss Miss Hardcastle, who was still disguised as a servant.

**MARLOW: Eighteen years! Why, one would think, child, you kept the bar before you were born. How old are you?**

**MISS HARDCASTLE: O! sir, I must not tell my age. They say women and music should never be dated.**

**MARLOW: To guess at this distance, you can't be much above forty. Yet, nearer, I don't think so much. By coming close to some women they look younger still; but when we come very close indeed.**

**MISS HARDCASTLE: Pray, sir, keep your distance. One would think you wanted to know one's age, as they do horses, by mark of mouth.**

**MARLOW: I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If you keep me at this distance, how is it possible you and I can ever be acquainted?**

She stole a look at Lord Babington. If he would try to guess her age by mark of mouth, she would not mind.

‘A most horrible man, is he not?’ Lord Babington asked lightly, but his voice was breathier, somehow more strained than usual.

‘Much too forward’, she agreed.

‘Men, our tempers run too hot for our own good’, he smirked.

‘Do they?’

‘Run too hot?’ he asked to clarify.

‘For your own good?’ she asked amusedly, throwing him off guard.

‘Well, they do. Such passions are foolish if there is no official attachment… or if the feelings are not returned. And it is even more foolish to act upon a hot temper. It’s not exactly virtuous’, he laughed, his eyes continuously darting back to their friends to check whether they could hear them.

Esther nodded slowly.

Was he talking about himself? Was he talking about men in general. She knew there was an easy way to know, fashion these days was designed to show rather too much of the body, but just the thought of looking there made her cheeks burn so hot she was afraid they’d simply fall off.

‘It does not sound like you disapprove of men’s temper, only of the circumstances wherein a man shows his passionate temper. If I am correct, you would allow a happily engaged man to show some of his passions, and a married man to show all.’

She could see how he froze, before falling back in his seat, confusion and hope blending together. She took a controlled sip of her glass, continuing to watch the show.

‘If the sentiments are returned’, he added.

She knew it was now her time to speak. She had set the conversation up for it. But she also knew an annoying next break was due to take place.

When it was time for the third break, the crowd started protesting against the many breaks contrary to the short intervals of show, and, afraid that the public _would_ turn into a normal one and start throwing food, the fourth act was presented.

She could feel Lord Babington’s hand tightening around her own. She came alive to his touch, having impatiently awaited his reaction.

‘Luckily you, Lord Babington, never have to wonder whether they are returned again.’

His eyes were hopeful, a small insecure smile on his face.

Rendered mute by her own passion, she lifted their united hands, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles.

It was funny, in a way, how she had professed her love so easily to Edward while she was now failing her fiancé.

She snuck a glance at the rest of the box. Mrs. Darcy was leaning against her husband talking in his ear, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam were whispering furiously, and Anne and Charlotte were leaning forward, trying to catch every word.

‘You don’t have to return them, you know. I only wanted…’

She lifted her free hand to silence him.

‘I don’t have to, but I want to. And… I believe it is time I share mine, as you have shared yours. I have determined we shall be equals in this marriage’, she smirked, but he noticed the fragile tone as she lowered her defences.

The curtain called to him. He knew they shouldn’t. But they were so far in the back, no one would be able to see them move from another box. And in case his own companions found out, he could always say she had taken ill and he had helped her outside so she could get some air. His heart was too full, it drowned out all reason, he was too tempted by the promise of the fulfilment of his hopes and dreams.

Lord Babington nodded softly, not wishing to discourage her by interrupting her. However, she seemed to understand the way his eyes kept darting back to the curtain, and wordlessly agreed.

Ever so slowly, they inched out of their chairs, their position in the back, close to the curtain never having been such a blessing as it was now as it allowed them to escape. Esther managed to sneak past without barely a singly inch of the curtain fabric moving. Lord Babington was not as elegant, but stealthy enough to get away unnoticed. She was already awaiting him, relief visible on her face that she could have this conversation in private.

‘Esther-‘

‘I love you’, she shot, before she could change her mind or lose her courage to express the tender feelings that had been growing within her for months.

Lord Babington did not react with the joy she expected, but then many of the ways in which he reacted were unexpected. She’d told him she found him handsome, which had only lead him to laugh, she’d told him she’d stay with him, to which he had responded with silence, and she hadn’t even stayed around to watch him when she told him she’d allow him to show her how he desired her.

‘You don’t have to…’

‘But I do. I-‘

She looked around them, wrapping her arms around her in a desperate attempt to shield herself as she laid down her soul.

‘I don’t know how or when it happened… All I know is that I do.’

‘Esther…’

He hadn’t dared to dream she would ever say the words, although he had hoped and prayed she would. But never had he expected them to come so quickly, so soon after she’d exclaimed she did not love him.

He was not blind to how she responded to his kisses, but he had not dared to see in it a sign of a change of heart. After all, he himself knew well enough desire and love weren’t always linked. A young woman could enjoy kissing without being in love.

There had been other instances when he felt like they were drifting dangerously close to _something_ , but he had been rejected by her once before, and had been reminded strongly of her indifference only a month and a half ago, it was enough to keep him from assuming anything about their relationship.

She had yet again managed to amaze him.

‘I want you to know that, when I say I do in a couple of weeks, I mean it. Fully.’

‘My dear’, he breathed, heart too full to speak. He scooped her up in his arms, swinging her around the room. There was nothing keeping him from doing so anymore.

He could immediately feel her arms coming up around him.

‘I want to be your wife. I don’t want you to think there’s any other reason for me wanting to be with you anymore… No reason but you yourself. It was only my pride and my fear keeping me from admitting that my heart had surrendered to another.’

‘I’ll take good care of it, I swear. As I trust you to take care of mine. Some men might want to make you theirs, but I want you to make me yours.’

She surged forwards, raising herself to her full height so she could press her lips against his. As soon as he answered, she handed him the reigns. This time, she offered her lips without him asking for them. He had no trouble responding with all the love, desire and appreciation he had for her, tenderly holding her against his chest.

Esther answered his kiss hungrily, realizing that even in the midst of their passion during earlier kisses, he’d been holding out, afraid to scare her with his intensity. He moved with so much more confidence and eager tenderness, it hit something deep inside of her, shattering and rebuilding her heart at the same time.

Her back hit the padded wall, but she was glad for the support it offered, since she could not hold herself anymore. Her legs were shaking as she underwent his touches; the supple pleading of his lips, the tantalizing slow strokes of his thumbs along her sides, the strong hold of his fingers on her back. It was altogether too much, and she was left feeling raw and exposed, yet incredibly powerful and cherished at the same time.

He could feel her nails where they scraped across his scalp, and the way her body sought out his.

She would not be soft, he knew. Despite the aloofness she showed when dealing with others, he knew her moods to be violently intense. Society’s hold of her was frail. It had amazed him how while he had internalized all stifling rules, Esther’s courtesy was more like a thin veil she draped over her real character for the sake of not embarrassing her relatives. She was sharp and honest, making her a refreshing safe haven, their relationship felt more real than anything had felt in a long _long_ while.

He had honestly been more than happy with her company, but this was superior to that. It made him feel alive.   
Finally, he had to break away to breathe, and she easily slumped against him, trusting his arms to hold her.

They sat down on the small couch. Their bodies were still humming with passion, their heartbeats competing in a race neither could win. Their union had encapsulated them in a dreamy bubble of red passion, but slowly, reality was seeping through the perfect bliss, and the sounds of the show floated in from between the curtains, reminding them of the outside world. Yet, despite reality settling in, they were still as united as they were in the moment of their kiss. Now they were equal. Their hearts and minds open and accessible to each other, their feelings shared and mutual, and their bond stronger than ever before.

‘We need to go back, imagine if they noticed’, Esther said, lips lifting in a way that showed the idea of a scandalous discovery both excited and terrified her.

‘We can’t have that. Especially since I made that vow to your aunt.’

‘Well, technically you vouched for the men. I already pointed out you had not included us women in your statement. If I recall correctly, I was the one making a move on you.’

‘And is this what I should tell your aunt?’

‘You don’t have to tell her anything if we return.’

‘A most clever solution.’

She nodded, withdrawing herself from his side with utmost difficulty.

‘I cannot wait until we don’t have to sneak around anymore.’

‘Oh, we’ll still have to sneak around if you want to kiss me in a theatre, dear.’

‘I’m sorry to say, but you won’t be spending your breaks outside this box talking to other gentlemen.’

‘No?’

‘If I have to sit out entire acts by your side, you’ll just have to devote your breaks to me.’

‘My lady, I shall be your servant.’

‘Good, I wouldn’t have taken a “no” for an answer’, she smirked before disappearing between the curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know that those who have read my other stories will probably be like 'love confessions at the theatre... AGAIN?' but well, I couldn't help it. I believe it was differrent enough, though I did have my doubts about uniting them there, as I knew I would repeat myself. But hey, in the regency era theatres were very much places where lovers united, cozied up in seats, hid behind curtains, and so on. It was a place to see and be seen, but it was also one of the most private public spaces one could go to. 
> 
> So, exactly 50 days after uploading my first chapter, I've finished the challenge, not a day too soon. But this story still has quite a few chapters to go. No worries, this is not the end. I'm also considering a short "After" story in an attempt to wrap up Georgiana's, Charlotte's and Anne's storylines if there's any interest in that, but that would go beyond canon. Now I know almost everyone has come out with sequels but the fact is that this story is technically still within the plausible limits of the canon. 
> 
> Also, on a happy note, since so many of you were so kind to offer me your support when things got rough, my grandmother is home at last. She's not in the best shape, but for however long whatever deity up there wants it, she's with us again. I can't describe how happy I am that I got to see her again for the first time in months, as I know many have had to say goodbye to their loved ones without being able to see them. Even as countries are loosening restrictions, I sincerely wish you and your families get through this, and you will all stay unharmed, even through a second wave.
> 
> Alright, on to the notes. 
> 
> She Stoops To Conquer is a popular play about two pairs of lovers. Like many plays of the day it unites themes of humour, social commentary and love, and there's the classic 'lover in disguise' and 'it was all a great misunderstanding' plot.
> 
> The Prince Regent's very well known mistress who published a tell-all autobiography: Harriette Wilson, was an actress. Since he had quite a few mistresses and bedpartners, I felt little qualms about adding another actress to the list. Babington is supposed to be friends with him, or at least know him, so it'd make sense he knows some of the lesser known ones.
> 
> Some more on Regency Era Theatre:  
> The theatre in Regency times was an important place for those who spent the season in London, and those who ventured to the theatre did not attend to simply watch a play. They dressed to the nines and sat in long carriage lines (such as the one Babington got stuck in) to also see who was in attendance as well as to be seen. Usually, a night’s programme at the theatre included a five act play, followed by a farcical afterpiece. Renting a subscription box or owning a box was a sign of your social status, only the wealthiest could purchase boxes by the season, which is what Babington does. He has already exclaimed he feels a need to perform, so he would perhaps feel the need to show his wealth by possessing a box. However, it is also true that a lot of politics were done in the theatre. It was not uncommon for parliamentarians to discuss things in a theatre, and a private box was certainly preferable to being overheard. Besides that, I believe the Babingtons are also lovers of culture, so it would make sense for them to invest in such things.
> 
> The remark about throwing food is actually based on true records. Audiences could be rude, noisy, and dangerous. Theatre patrons consumed large quantities of alcohol and food, and people arrived and left throughout the performance. Audiences chatted among themselves loudly, and sometimes pelted actors with rotten fruit and vegetables if dissatisfied with the performances. I imagine this didn't happen at nicer theatres, but most actors would definitely have some experiences with a disgruntled public. However, I imagine that all theatre goers were quite vocal. If they could throw fruit at actors or demand scenes to be replayed, I imagine they could also demand the actors continued instead of having a break, especially since the acts of "She Stoops to Conquer" are quite short .


	14. The Problem of Sanditon has a name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A heavier chapter, but I promise lighter ones will soon follow :)

Esther Denham had very agreeable prospects. No longer did she toss and turn due to the fear of being unloved and alone. Fears about a new life together with unfamiliar people were diminishing each day. And as these thunderous clouds of worries dissipated one by one, her head and heart became light and ready to care for others.

It is an often experienced but rarely vocalized truth that people who are hurting, turn inwards, while people who feel good are able to care about others.

This was not out of some kind of disregard of others or selfishness, but merely the consequence of circumstance. At her lowest, Esther had forced herself outside of her bubble of isolation and thrust herself into the acquaintance of others, and this had saved her.

She had befriended Georgiana and Charlotte, had talked with them, laughed with them, and generally done a lot together with them. They had supported her, and she had supported them, to the best of her capabilities. Within that timeframe she’d also come to see the depth of Georgiana’s unhappiness and mistrust, and catch glimpses of Charlotte’s unhappiness in the ways her smile was always clouded, her personality had become subdued and her words more careful. She had tried to take care of her new friends. She had tried talking to them. She’d tried and succeeded in convincing Mr. Stringer to take the apprenticeship.

But perhaps her best hadn’t been enough. They had been so ready to help and support her, and now she was doing well, and they weren’t. It wasn’t fair.

Charlotte was sitting in a corner with a letter, while Georgiana was quietly humming to herself while reading a romance novel.

Somewhere along the lines, one had rolled even further downhill, while the other was climbing back up again.

She had hoped being away from Sanditon, and in constant company, would do Charlotte some good, but was it enough? Was there even something that could be enough? Charlotte had been like them, yet altogether different in her heartache. The man she loved had not mistreated her. He had not broken her trust or acted dishonourably. He was taken from her.

However, she suffered the same heartache, and just like them, appeared to have lost confidence regarding her sense of judgement. Though how this came to be, Esther did not know. She noticed Charlotte doubted herself, and considered her words, while she hadn’t before.

She had to admit that although she’d talked to Charlotte aplenty, she had never really dared to push the topic. It hurt to see someone who deserved happiness more, and already had a happier disposition to begin with, be so far removed from it.

 _Babington’s rubbing off on me, with all his worry for everyone’s happiness. Lord save me, I’m turning soft,_ Esther mused.

‘A letter from your family, Charlotte?’ Esther asked as she took a seat beside her.

‘Yes, it’s quite a full one’, Charlotte smiled, lifting the stack of papers.

There were two sheets of paper from her parents, with little messages from her younger siblings, and then another two sheets in crossed writing.

‘All good I hope?’

Charlotte nodded, her mouth twitching as she looked at the sheets. She was trying to smile.

‘My brother is getting married soon.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s after your wedding, don’t worry. I wouldn’t skip it’, Charlotte smiled quickly.

‘Was he already engaged before this summer?’

‘Yes, he’s been in love with her since they were sixteen, but they allowed themselves a couple of years to grow. He’s been working hard to get them a home ever since.’

There was no shame to be found in Charlotte’s voice, Esther could even detect some pride. 

Edward had never considered doing anything to gain money, he had just waited around for a miracle to happen. It made Esther admire the devotion of Charlotte’s brother and eagerness to start working on his future at so young an age.

‘That’s very responsible of him’, Esther replied.

‘Yeah, he’s very excited to marry. He already found them a decently sized cottage not too far from home.’

‘He is not the oldest son, I take it?’

‘No, the second. He was supposed to have a naval career but well. It’s why he entered the navy at seventeen in the year thirteen, but after Napoleon got defeated two years ago, they’ve been letting off more and more of their own, especially the younger ones.’

‘That’s unfortunate.’

‘It is. He really liked being in the navy. Lizzie, of course, likes that he’s back in Willingden and out of harm’s way.’

Esther assumed the Lizzie was his fiancée.

‘Right now he’s working to become a barrister. He has found a new calling.’

‘Oh, well, that’s really admirable. I fear his fiancée won’t like that all that much either. What is it, five years of studying?’

Charlotte nodded.

‘But she’s accepted it. He’s ambitious. That’s just the way he is. Nobody is able to change him, and frankly, no one of us would want him to change. He has these… violent passions. He wants to help people, defend his country, defend people. It’s just who he is.’

‘That’s admirable.’

Charlotte nodded.

‘Are all your brothers as industrious as he is?’ Esther asked, suddenly wondering about the small army of siblings Charlotte had at home.

‘Some are, some aren’t. We’re a well off family with more than enough money, but with so many children, it would be nice of the boys to have at least a little business on the side’, Charlotte admitted.

All Heywood girls would probably be ensured of a decent dowry, and all boys would probably get a nice annual sum and a chunk of the inheritance, but with so many… Yes, most would need to find something to do with their lives. And most girls would have to marry within or above their station.

Esther thought back on how Clara, Edward and her had fought about Lady Denham’s inheritance, being completely unwilling to share even though it was large.

‘Do any other siblings have beaus as well?’

Charlotte finally laughed, shaking her head.

‘Most aren’t even past the age of sixteen yet.’

‘For many, sixteen is a perfect age.’

‘My parents would have died had any one of us left the house that soon. I think my parents will cry for weeks once Edmund leaves. Perhaps that’s why my father never left Willingden. It’s a nice quiet village. And there’s no one of our station around. So that means no one to steal his daughters from underneath his nose’, Charlotte smirked. 

‘A smart man’, Esther agreed.

‘He is’, Charlotte answered, but her smile faltered, growing more and more unsure until a bolt of pain flashed across her face before being carefully replaced by a neutral expression.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing really, I just… Thought of something he told me once.’

‘Oh, and what’s that?’

‘Nothing much’, Charlotte smiled politely.

‘Come, you can tell me. We don’t deliberate our words around here. We’ve all been hurt out there by people who lied, or hid things, or used language to persuade us of certain things. We deserve the truth from everyone, at least each other’, Esther tried.

‘And then we become used to honesty and people saying what they mean. And then when we go to the outside world people are deceitful or guarded. And people interpret our words believing we mean harm when we don’t, or start looking for a secret meaning behind our words when there isn’t one. And that’s how things go wrong’, Charlotte proclaimed with a sad expression.

‘There’s good people and bad people out there. Obviously, we trust each other with honest conversation but not the rest of the world. I’m even more open with you than I am with my fiancée. At least until yesterday’, Esther confessed.

Charlotte nodded.

‘I would rather live my life that way. All these pretences and intrigues are exhausting, and I get so tired of having to be on my guard and mistrusting. My father said I had to be aware of figures in seaside towns. I didn’t understand him then. I believe I do now.’

‘I understand you. I’ve isolated myself for years because I didn’t trust others, and only wanted relationships where I could trust and be open with people. I misjudged everyone, some are worth knowing and trusting. Don’t make the reverse mistake’, Esther smirked.

Charlotte gave a weak smile.

‘Perhaps it will do me some good to return home, come back to myself in a trusted environment where I can trust everyone.’

Esther nodded slowly. ‘I’ll be sorry to see you go. But if you feel the need for some time and believe you’ll be able to recover there…’

‘I think I do. The past few months have been so overwhelming. My whole view of the world and of people has been challenged. It has been a lifechanging experience. But perhaps it’s like they say, everything must be experienced in moderation.’

Esther nodded.

‘But, I do appreciate that you took me to London. I’ve really enjoyed it. I’ve never seen the capital before… Well, once, but I hadn’t been able to see much of it then. It’s a beautiful city and it’s done me good. I feel I had to be away from Sanditon for some time. It’s been nice to explore the parks, architecture and history of the city… And of course, the evening activities were great fun.’

‘Yes, I feared coming to the city. Personally, I don’t trust seaside towns, cities or merchant towns in general. I understand your father.’

‘Not encouraging’, Charlotte smiled.

‘But I have been proven wrong, I expected to be entering a hostile beehive with hundreds of gossips flocking around a couple of queen bees who would throw one look at me before judging me and throwing me out. But everyone has been most welcoming, and more genuine than most people I met in my life so far.’

Charlotte took some time, pondering Esther’s words.

‘You say you don’t trust merchant towns, cities or seaside towns in general. Why is that?’

‘It has to do with the people living there. Such towns are full of social climbers, willing to crawl over corpses to get the money and position they want. They don’t mind cheating, lying or manipulating people to get there either. My aunt is a schemer who wants to leave a legacy, and has, through her marriages, tried to climb the social ladder and gain wealth. She succeeded, and now uses her position of superiority to influence some, and boss others around. My brother was a cunning snake just waiting for my aunt to drop dead. Clara pretended to be all nice as a way to charm her way to the inheritance. Tom Parker lives above his stance and is so blinded by his own ambitions and visions that he doesn’t spend a second thinking about who he hurts along the way, be it workers or his own family.’

Charlotte nodded morosely, lips pulling taut when the Parker name dropped.

‘They’re such nice people though. They are so warm and kind and loving. They took me with them to Sanditon and offered me the most amazing summer’, Charlotte mused, a small smile tugging at her lips as she played with a ribbon.

‘Mary is such a great person. So strong and kind, and she loves her children oh so much. And the children they’re just’, Charlotte sighed, her head falling back as she looked at the ceiling, her smile growing as she thought of the pleasant memories.

‘And Mr. Arthur is just so funny and good-natured. And Miss Diana, she’s just so… She can’t help it. She’s a hypochondriac but she cares so much about her family. They all do, actually, they all care so much for one another.’

Esther noticed she’d left out the two most important men. Charlotte’s neck straightened again as she looked at Esther.

‘Mr. Parker means well though. It’s as you say, he’s got this vision, and really, it’s so amazing. The way he talks of it, he’s got great ideas. I can really see where he’s going. And he’s already done such a good job.’

It appeared Charlotte had finally managed to break of her new stiff composure. Now that she had started talking, she could not stop from sharing her mind. It gladdened Esther that the old Charlotte wasn’t lost, merely buried underneath an armour of courtesy.

‘But what he realized, he realized through skipping corners where he could. It’s what resulted in the injury of poor Mr. Stringer… And it is why they are now in trouble because the terrace burned down… And Mr. Stringer died.’

‘And that’s only on your watch’, Esther added. ‘He isn’t the first worker to die, Charlotte. Some die because of injuries or complications to injuries. Some die on job. Some lose a limb and have to find a new profession, and that’s a very hard thing to do in a city with so few job opportunities, especially for handicapped people.’

‘I didn’t know’, Charlotte murmured.

‘I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm.’

‘No, but he causes it. Multiple times. People are dying for his visions.’

Edward didn’t care about hurting others on his way to his fortune either. Her hate for the one, fuelled her hate for the other. They were awful men, no matter their intentions. Their intentions didn’t make their actions hurt any less. And they didn’t feel the slightest remorse for their actions either, no, they considered everyone who didn’t understand them to be unreasonable. Conceited narcissistic pricks, if you asked Esther.

‘When I see him. I see the smiles and hopes and dreams. I see how he cares about his family and the town… It’s just so strange, that at the same time, he’s hurting both. And this is… not a one time thing. He means so well, but people keep on getting hurt.’

Charlotte shook her head, as if she was trying to shake away the bad thoughts concerning Tom Parker.

‘John Ray once cited that the road to hell is paved with good intentions’, she sighed.

‘I’ve heard of that one before’, Esther replied.

‘I feel like I understand him so well though. And I can just see his plans and visions… But it doesn’t take away that he hurts people. And despite seeing the consequences, he keeps on doing it… And now Mr. Stringer, and Mary and the children, and S… Mr. Sidney Parker and… even your aunt, they’re all affected by his decisions. They all suffer because of it. And he makes mistakes he can’t fix. When the workers started complaining too much, Mr. Sidney Parker found money. And when the buildings burned… Mr. Sidney Parker found himself a wife… He was right all along. He was right and I was naïve and wrong. I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to see it. But he was right.’

‘Sidney Parker, I take it.’

‘I can’t believe how long I continued to call him the bad brother for not helping his brother, for thinking so badly of him. He told me _“this is what Tom does”_ but I didn’t get it. Where I am from, everyone loves their family unconditionally. You always help them, even when they make mistakes. Not helping his brother would have lead to disastrous consequences for Mary and the children… Had he not been there to step in and save the day… He would have brought the whole family to ruin. Oh God. He would have.’

Esther nodded.

‘You told me as well’, Charlotte said, a frown clouding her pretty face. ‘On the first day we met. You said Tom parker was a monomaniac who’d ruin his entire family in pursuit of his goals. He keeps on making mistakes. The same mistakes: spending too much, not providing a safe working environment, skipping necessary costs like insurance policies. He endangered everyone, multiple times. And I kept on asking Sidney to help him out, to shelter him, to cover up for his actions. Mr. Parker wanted London people, he brought Mr. Crowe and Lord Babington. Mr. Parker wanted more funds for the terrace, Sidney secured them. Mr. Parker wanted to lure more people to the regatta, so we went to a ball to ask London people to come. He needed someone to find money for the terrace buildings, and so Mrs. Campion’s money was obtained… And that’s only while I was there, as you said.’

‘And didn’t you help him too? Do take some credit for helping him. I heard the regatta was your idea.’

Charlotte nodded.

‘And I classified his paperwork as well.’

‘I hope he thanked you, at least, for the services you did him’, Esther joked, trying to make Charlotte smile.

A heavy silence fell over them.

Esther sympathized with the girl. She had been naïve and optimistic. She had believed Tom Parker’s noble intentions, and had believed that when someone didn’t mean harm, there could be no harm… or at least no unforgivable harm.

‘Actually… He even tried to pretend the regatta was his idea’, she answered silently.

The brunette chewed on her bottom lip, staring at the patterned Persian rug underneath their feat, following the bold blue lines with her eyes.

‘How can you keep on hurting the people you love?’

Esther had wondered about the same question too.

‘By not caring enough about them to change’, she answered. ‘He is unwilling to face his own faults. Indeed, he doesn’t even think he did wrong at all, because his intentions were good. All the bad consequences of his actions are merely misfortune to him, caused by bad luck.’

Charlotte cringed.

Esther knew it was a particularly harsh answer, but it was the truth she had found. When you cared for people, you wanted them to be happy. When you loved someone, you couldn’t bear hurting them. If you were responsible, you showed remorse for your actions and tried to do better.

But Tom Parker remained the same. He did not change.

And his family kept on loving him and helping him. A most fortunate man indeed!

It was an uncomfortable truth, since knowing it did not change anything.

It only made matters worse. For they saw Tom Parker for what he was, yet had no power to stop him. They knew he would continue his ways, no matter the cost. More people could get hurt. More people could die.

Yet, what could they do?

If only a man could be declared unfit to govern himself. If only he could be placed underneath a man’s care like a woman! He would fare far better underneath the jurisdiction of a wiser man who had no qualms with telling him no, checking his bank accounts and putting him in his place.

Her aunt was trying this. By using his need for her money, she tried to make him do her bidding. She didn’t do it out of love, or to protect his family, she did it to protect her investment. But it was clear that her financial control over him wasn’t strong enough. When she told him no, he would simply make his family look for more money. When she demanded there would be no further deaths, he had gifted the workers new tools but had still not ensured the buildings. He was irresponsible. And worse even, her aunt tried to reel him in but he hid the truth from her so she couldn’t step in.

Charlotte shook her head softly, her eyes becoming glassy.

Esther did not know what to do, so she did what others usually did for her. She took Charlotte’s hand.

‘Is there even a solution to problems like these?’ Charlotte questioned desperately.

She looked at Esther, eyes shining with unshed tears.

‘I don’t know’, Esther admitted.

‘There can be one, but I don’t know it.’

The first tear broke free and rolled down the peachy skin of her cheek.

Charlotte needed hope.

But Esther couldn’t ensure it.

And she didn’t wish to lie either.

‘We can try finding one together. Two heads are better than one. Although we must also remember that it is not our job to save them. Mr. Parker has saved his brother for the time being. It is now up to Mrs. Parker, Miss Parker and the other two Mister Parkers to reign in their brother and start controlling him, checking his loans, checking his spending, curbing his plans… You need to focus on yourself, Charlotte.’

‘But I… How can I sleep at night, knowing the fate of so many rely upon the actions of him?’

It was an understandable point of view. Charlotte had come to love the Parkers. She had anticipated becoming one herself. And now all these people she cared about were at risk. And she wanted to prevent her loved ones from getting hurt.

Such a good sweet girl, her goodness was wasted upon the likes of Tom Parker. It was sad she had to pay the price for his actions. If she knew it would work, she would start cracking jokes and saying mean things about Tom Parker. That would work for Georgiana, but she knew this would not help Charlotte. Charlotte needed hope to be able to breathe. Charlotte needed to believe things could be fixed.

And Charlotte needed action. She needed to be able to do something about a situation. Charlotte needed to feel useful. She didn’t want to be an onlooker, it was not a role she liked.

‘Many people were hurt by him, yourself included. At present, you cannot help the Parkers, but you can help yourself… And, there’s another person who was hurt by Mr. Parker whom you can help. You can do something about that.’

‘How do I that? And who’s the other person?’

‘Mr. Stringer. He lost his father because of him. We must keep encouraging Mr. Stringer to continue his apprenticeship. If he is able to work for himself, he will not suffer any more harm by the hand of Mr. Parker. And then we must find ways to make sure Mr. Parker can no longer affect your happiness. Then we can start looking at the others.’

‘But…’

Esther could just see Charlotte trying to neglect herself. She could see the desire to help others burning in her eyes. She could see the fear for the young children. She could see her sadness, knowing that Sidney Parker had to marry Mrs. Campion.

‘No, no buts. That is what you can do. You’re not in a position to help the others right now. You’ll leave for Willingden by the end of August, there’s not a lot of time to change things around. And you’re not exactly in the position to control or change Tom Parker. Frankly, his wife, his brothers and his sister are all adults. They can speak up for themselves. And they’re his family, they have the authority to give him remarks and reprimands. They have more power to change things than you do. Tom Parker is their problem, Charlotte. It is not your job to save them. You’re a twenty-two year old girl with no real connection to them as of yet. Let them fix their brother.’

Other tears joined the tears that had already rolled down her cheeks, following the same wet trails the earlier tears had traversed.

Charlotte was a girl of action. She wanted to get her hands dirty, and she couldn’t. She had lost her love. She knew her love would still suffer because of his brother. She knew his family who she’d come to love would still suffer because of him. She had plenty of reasons to cry, so Esther let her.

Georgiana stopped reading upon hearing the sobs and quietly walked over, mouthing a question at Esther. Esther touched her own heart softly, leading Georgiana to nod in understanding.

She took place on the other side of Charlotte and readily threw her arms around her.

Charlotte cried and sobbed, finally letting loose the strong emotions she’d suppressed for so long.

The crying took an hour, before they turned into hiccups, and then silent tears, followed by a time of silently sitting on the couch while she recollected herself.

Esther had tasked a servant with delivering cool wet washing cloths so they could cool down Charlotte’s temples in between. Now, Charlotte looked at the bowl of cold water, an slowly took a cloth out of it.

She dabbed her eyes, and softly wiped it across her cheeks, before she nodded to herself. The redness that had tinted her skin as she had started crying was lightening slowly.

‘Alright. So. Mr. Stringer.’

Charlotte had decided her next project. If she couldn’t help Mr. Parker, she would help his victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a heavier chapter, and mostly dialogue. I wanted to make it up by adding a nice light scene with Mr. Stringer, but the chapter is already quite long. I know I've gone some time without uploading, it's because of my exams (1) but also because as we're getting closer to the wedding, it's starting to be less and less about Esther, and more about others. It's the rule of love: when you're too occupied, you can't fully love others and be there for others. Esther was in a bad place where she's slowly getting out of. It's only as she gets a better hold of her own problems that she's able to really see others and be able to help them.
> 
> In the show, Esther isn't very open, but we have seen how caring she is. She is amazing at comforting Edward. So it makes sense that she would be able to comfort others. Although she would still be a bit awkward doing so as she feels like it isn't really her place.   
> Esther is also really fit to help Georgiana and Charlotte. She's older than both of them, and although all three of them have gotten hurt by narcissists in the same couple of months, Esther has had more and prolonged experience with it. She already knew Edward wasn't the best guy, but since he constantly critiqued her, she probably felt like she didn't deserve better. She's had years to recognize Edward's and Tom's patterns, the other girls didn't have that. Charlotte knows Tom for like four months, and although Otis and Georgiana have known each other for longer, Georgiana was younger and more naïve and she only saw him in a limited amount of circumstances. She didn't even know Otis gambled.   
> Esther still fails to love herself, and her confidence isn't restored, but she is wise enough to pinpoint the blame. And she isn't afraid to change her view on people. And she recognizes their patterns of lies and deceit. She has witnessed Edward and Tom telling everyone pretty stories, while at the same time seeing their bad behaviour continuing because everyone keeps taking their shit. In my opinion, it is essential for Charlotte's recovery and future happiness that she sees the events and people in Sanditon for what they are. So I'm afraid the heavy dialogue was necessary
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Charlotte thought the quote was by John Ray. In 1670, he cited the proverb "Hell is paved with good intentions." But even earlier than that, it's been attributed to Saint Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153), as "Hell is full of good intentions or desires." Charlotte is a bookworm so she probably remembers the names of many authors, but I take it her knowledge isn’t perfect (especially in regards to medieval French authors who, during the regency period, weren’t so popular). Esther isn’t as bookish as her, so she wouldn’t know about John Ray or Bernard of Clairvaux.
> 
> \- In Sidney’s conversation with Tom following his rescue of Georgiana he asks “how can a man begin to make amends until he is willing to face his own faults?” Now Sidney was talking about Sidney here, but man that question really goes up for Tom. Tom never blames himself for his faults, it's always bad luck. When people get angry with him for the accidents that happen due to his negligence, he starts manipulating them by being all sad and 'but I wanted to do good it was an accident. Please help me. I need to be helped.' Every time Sidney and Charlotte help him, he takes their offered help and greedily looks for more help. And then, since he is helped, he doesn't learn from his mistakes and does it again and expects to be bailed out again. So yeah, I incorporated some nods to the many conversations people had with and about Tom.
> 
> \- ‘A most fortunate man’ is something Mr. Knightley from Jane Austen’s “Emma” says about Frank Churchill. Mr. Knightley strongly dislikes Frank Churchill because even though he continually makes mistakes and hurts people, he never has to pay for his actions. He falls in love with Jane Fairfax but his aunt wouldn’t allow the match, the aunt dies so he can marry the girl he wants. He gets a very pretty and clever wife, despite neglecting her and flirting right in front of her. He also neglects his father, yet everything always turns out for his good. ‘He has used everybody ill – and they are all delighted to forgive him. He is a fortunate man, indeed!’


	15. Suitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS I’m so annoyed right now. The Sanditon Official Instagram account has been releasing unshown scenes and today they released a scene between Mr. Crowe and Clara. It must have taken place after Clara’s final conversation with Edward and shows Mr. Crowe being all gallant, carrying Clara’s suitcase and telling her she has a friend worth knowing in landen (him!) and now I’m like… Argh! I’ve played with putting Crowe and Clara together in the past but in this fic I didn’t because we didn’t have any canon proof that they could have ended up together. Now we do, but I’ve already put him up with my Anne and I’m torn. I’m torn. I wanted to treat this fic in the most canon compliant way possible. Now that I know Clara’s in London and has a connection with Crowe, she will appear. Her appearance wasn’t premediated prior to today but there are ways to make her fit in with the narrative so I will. It’s perfectly possible Esther, Charlotte, Georgiana and Anne don’t know of her, she’s not of their station and Crowe and Clara’s acquaintance wouldn’t be very well known. So if you see her appearing, these are my reasons and motives for throwing her in while not bringing her up before  
> On the bright side: I’ve now got multiple scenes to prove Crowe is not only a drunk but also: very smooth when he wants to be and a jokester. We’ve seen him flirt with Charlotte and Clara, be soft and courteous to Clara, joke around his friends… I’m delighted because that’s exactly how I believe I’ve portrayed him thus far in relation to Babington and Anne even without the unreleased scenes. I’m curious to see if there’ll be even more deleted scenes with him I can use for my stories.
> 
> Also, as I am now finally fully aware of the contents of Kate Riordan’s Sanditon tie-in novel, I’ll be including all info we know about Georgiana’s arc as well.

At five, the ladies stood gathered outside of the small office, their carriage parked across of the street as the office was an hour’s walk removed from Lady Denham’s town house.

Their visit caught the young man completely unaware, but his shocked expression lasted for only a couple of seconds before it turned into a smile.

‘Miss Heywood, Miss Lambe, Miss Denham. I did not expect to see ye here’, he greeted them. Esther was once again caught off guard by the pleasantness of his low warm voice. She noticed it affected the other ladies as well, as they found themselves smiling back widely at him.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘We wanted to check up on you, of course. I’m so excited to hear how you are doing’, Charlotte answered readily.

‘Would you take a walk with us, Mr. Stringer?’

He looked at Charlotte as if she was the most precious thing on earth, his entire face lit up when he looked at her.

Esther knew that look.

‘Yes of course, Miss Heywood’, he replied while offering her his arm.

Charlotte offered him her most enchanting radiant smile as she hooked her arm through his.

Esther and Georgiana tagged behind on their way to the closest park.

Charlotte was doing most of the talking, probably because she wanted him to keep his stories for when they could all hear them. She walked with a straight back and a joyful expression. From her behaviour, no one would be able to detect she’d been red-faced and crying no less than three hours ago.

They arrived at the park, and the group took up place next to each other.

‘So how have your first few weeks gone, Mr. Stringer?’

‘Well, I already told you most of my experiences of the first week, Miss. But I must profess that I am starting to adjust. It’s a crazy city, but I confess I find myself liking it more than I expected… More than I should.’

‘Should, should is what people want you to think. You don’t have to change your mind based on what others want you to think’, Georgiana objected.

Mr. Stringer hesitated, uncomfortable with addressing the reasons why he thought he shouldn’t enjoy it.

‘Come, I believe you have a vastly different experience to mine. What have you enjoyed most, what the least?’ Georgiana insisted.

‘I uhm… Well I guess the streets aren’t very nice.’

The ladies blinked in surprise, none having expected that answer.

‘The… Streets?’ Esther questioned, looking at the line of trees on the side of their path as if she could stare straight through them and look at the streets.

‘They’re full of manure. Hard to walk through and even harder to endure the stench of.’

London streets were dirty. There were no sewers, and the horse traffic did mean there was a lot of smelly horse faeces out there on the streets. It’s why the dress hems had gotten higher these past couple of years in London’s fashionable society, and why people wore over-shoes to protect their daintily coloured house shoes. But wealthy people only had to endure it for a minute or so, while exiting their carriages. And their streets were cleaned more often as well. It would make sense that, if Mr. Stringer walked everywhere, he would have more experience with it.

And compared to the streets in Sanditon, these were indeed dirty roads.

‘I’ve noticed that too’, Charlotte declared.

‘So shitty roads. I do hope London managed to make more of an impression than that’, Esther answered.

‘I’ve been taking evening walks every day, to explore the city. I must say there are many mightily beautiful buildings. I especially admire the buildings designed by Christopher Wren.’

‘I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with him’, Charlotte confessed.

‘Naw, it’s alright Miss Heywood, he lived during the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. He designed St. Paul’s amongst others.’

‘Oh, I do know that building. It’s quite beautiful.’

‘My feelings exactly’, he answered her with a radiant smile, glad to be of the same opinion as her. ‘I’ve been reading a work on him these past couple of weeks in my spare time. His style is out of fashion but I believe a lot can be learned from him.’

‘And how does your master treat you?’ Georgiana enquired.

‘He’s a kind man. Very kind indeed. He really takes a lot of time educating me on all kinds of things. It is clear my education is insufficient and that most men he takes on are more knowledgeable’, he admitted, brows furrowing as self-awareness flooded him.

‘Perhaps a better school would do Sanditon some good. Once we’re out of the building phase, we’ll be needing well educated workers, not just strong hands’, Esther decided. ‘I’ll mention it to my aunt.’

‘You would? That’s very considerate of you, Miss’, Mr. Stringer said carefully. Obviously, his first impression of her was still making careful. She assumed she could hardly expect him to smile at her with the same ease, given their first interaction had been her barging into his home and ordering him to go to London.

‘I’m sorry Misses Charlotte, you thought I was a clever man. And I’ve been proven to be quite ordinary. Turns out I make a lot of mistakes.’

‘What do you mean, of course you are clever’, Charlotte defended softly.

‘My maths are good, but my scaling is awful, apparently. And my designs are often impossible to create due to certain laws of physics I wasn’t aware of… And then there are some practical things I’m bad at that I have to do as an apprentice.’

‘Well, if people were born virtuosi, nobody would ever need to be taught anything. The fact that apprenticeships exist, proves that everyone needs to learn some things about their future jobs before they can practice it. Even if they have a natural talent of some kind. You believe yourself lacking compared to others. Why, of course the architect would only take on people who are already talented and skilled. You’re average compared to other already talented individuals. It would be the same as my aunt saying her wealth is only average when compared to her peers. But compared to the lowest classes, she’s amazingly wealthy.’

‘I hadn’t thought of it like that’, Mr. Stringer admitted.

Esther nodded with satisfaction.

‘We’ve been to a play’, Georgiana announced, deciding the topic had grown boring.

‘People started shouting to demand the actors to play in a different way’, she admitted gleefully.

Her comment missed its mark entirely. Mr. Stringer frowned, imagining being scolded by his employers himself.

‘Why?’

‘Because, apparently, in theatre, people react to plays and sometimes even throw with food at the actors to express their opinions or what they want.’

‘That doesn’t sound very nice.’

Georgiana looked down.

‘Guess it isn’t. But it’s amusing, isn’t it. Just imagine throwing stuff at people you disagree with. What a wonderful world that would be’, Georgiana sighed.

Esther wondered who Georgiana wanted to throw things at. Was it Mr. Parker, or Mr. Parker or her former fiancée?

That managed to make Mr. Stringer smile.

‘Aye, I imagine it must be satisfying, Miss.’

‘I don’t. Just imagine how dirty every street and room must be then. And we’re already complaining about the state of the London streets’, Esther smirked.

That made all of them laugh.

Charlotte and Georgiana explained the rest of the play to him, and he told them some of the things he’d done in the office and some of the projects they were currently busy with.

It was all by all a pleasant walk, and Esther deemed it a success upon seeing Charlotte’s and Georgiana’s smiles. And if she smiled a lot herself, well, that was a lucky coincidence.

A few days later, Esther was preparing to visit the Babingtons for tea, when she heard a lot of commotion down the hall.

She already had her sleeveless red petticoat on, and her maid was just tying up the lightweight white dress with red trimmings around the neckline and waist. She hadn’t been feeling like wearing red lately, but just the red sheen of her underlayers and trimmings did create a lovely effect, especially when combined with the white dress. She never really felt good in pure dainty white. It didn’t feel like a colour that belonged to her.

A door opened and closed audibly at the end of the corridor.

Esther impatiently shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

‘Almost ready, Miss’, the maid promised.

The maid let loose of the dress and readjusted the translucent fabric of her fichu.

‘There you go, Miss.’

‘Thank you.’

Esther rushed to the door, almost bumping straight into Georgiana who was making her way towards hers and Charlotte’s room.

‘What is it?’

Georgiana lifted a letter, as if that would explain things.

‘Charlotte, are you in there?’ Georgiana asked as she knocked.

The door was opened shortly after, and the two girls stormed in. Georgiana threw herself on Charlotte’s bed. Charlotte looked at her with curiosity, coming to sit beside her.

‘Is there something you wanted to talk about?’

‘Read it.’

Charlotte took the offered letter, throwing a look at Esther. Georgiana caught it.

‘She can know it too, I guess.’

‘My dearest Georgiana… Is… Is this from Otis?’ Charlotte questioned.

Georgiana nodded, holding a pillow against her chest as Charlotte continued to read the letter out loud.

_‘I write to you to inform you about a recent development in my private life._

_I would understand should you no longer wish to have anything to do with me, but I feel bound to inform you. What you do with this information is up to you._

_These past few months I have taken the time to reflect on all that has happened and all that I have done. Back when you first left me, I felt slighted and insulted. I believed myself to be a most unfortunate victim of Lady Fortuna! I did not want to accept blame. I did not wish to put fault where it ought to be, with myself. I was in the wrong. I gambled away my money. I avoided my debtors. I had a problem and for the longest time I refused to face it._

_Actually, I had multiple problems. I did gamble with your money. I did make those promises to my debtors. I did this for months while speaking no word of it to you. When my deceit was uncovered I was angered that others now knew of the truth and judged me for it. I hated that they looked at me with contempt (even though I now accept it is contempt I deserved). However, I could bear Miss Heywood and Mr. Parker’s contempt, but not yours. So I lied to you about it. I swore to you I didn’t gamble with your name, but I did._

_My hubris cost me everything. I gambled and I lied, these are my vices, and I must own up to them and the crimes I committed because of them. I ruined my own life, and I almost ruined yours if it hadn’t been for the intervention of Mr. Parker and Miss Heywood._

_After accepting responsibility for the harm I caused, I tried to better myself. But it has proven to be a hard habit to kick. Luckily the usual place I went to has now put me on a blacklist (ironic isn’t it, to be put on a black list. It’s almost as if I was destined to be on it. But we’ll discuss the use of the word black for bad things another time perhaps, if there is to be a future for us). I also found a couple of friends willing to take me in no matter the time of day when the urges become too strong. My flesh is weak, but I try to become tougher. I do not want to yield to temptation again._

_Your guardian has set me free. His payment of my debts has offered me the freedom to do with my future as I please. I am unattached and free. I have done him a great injustice, speaking about him the way I did. He cares for you. He protected you. And he helped me, even when he didn’t have to. Even though he knew the chances of me being able to repay him are slim. He is a good man, and I am forever indebted to him. He set me free, and therefor it is my duty to make the most of my future. Elsewise his sacrifice and investment have been wasted. I will not waste this chance._

_I have also done you a great injustice. I hurt the one I most cared about, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I put you in harm’s way, and was unable to help you. I failed you. Fate gifted me a wonderful woman, and I did not treat her the way I should. My Antiguan queen, you don’t owe me any kindness. If it wasn’t for your guardian you’d be married to that horrible old man, robbed of your wealth and freedom, forced in some kind of modern slavery because of me. I have wronged you in many ways. But if, somehow, you can find it in you to forgive me, I promise to become the best husband I can be._

_I make a solemn pledge to you that I’ll continue to work on myself to be worthy of you. You deserve a good man and right now that’s not me, and that hasn’t been me. We never formally broke off our engagement, but I hereby release you from your promises. You are free to do with me as you please. If you decide you deserve better than me, that is your right._

_But if your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. One word from you shall silence me on the matter of our engagement forever._

_I have found a job in the navy. I believe the rigour and discipline shall do me good. I want to make something of myself. I want to be a better man. A man that is worthy of you. And once I am, if by some miracle you decide to still accept my pursuit of you, I shall return to you._

_My everlasting love and affection,_

_Otis Molyneux.’_

‘Oh Georgie’, Charlotte brought out.

Well, that certainly shed some clarity on what had happened to Georgiana and why she had turned bitter. She’d been used for money, had been kidnapped and had almost been married off for her money. No wonder she put no faith in men.

Georgiana was unusually quiet, looking at the letter in Charlotte’s hands with a forlorn look in her eyes.

‘What do you think of it?’ Esther asked.

‘I don’t know… I, I still love him. I never managed to stop loving him. But all these months, I was angry too. I hated him. I cursed him. For all that he had done and all that he had ruined. I was this close to happiness. This close to marriage. And he ruined it. He gambled away our future for some evenings of throwing dices. He loved dices more than me. Do you have any idea how insulting it is to be sold like some kind of cloth in exchange for a night’s entertainment? He, he who knows slavery. He, who knows the pain of being treated like some disposable product, he did that to me. He sold me like a slave, something he has experienced himself and something he protests every week! The hypocrite!’

She pressed her face into the pillow. Esther could see her shoulders shaking.

Esther was so ready to hate him. If only for the way he made Georgiana feel. Her own pain was too fresh. Her wounds still raw, and she recognized those same wounds in Georgiana.

‘Yet, I… I can’t help but… love him. And I still want to be with him. But he lied to me, he sold me, he hid from his responsibilities, he was unable to protect me, he was the one who fuelled my hate for Sidney. He was the one who convinced me Sidney was the devil keeping us apart. But he had been right about Otis. He had been right to doubt him. And when the time came to give Otis the final push into the abyss, he instead helped him so Otis could be free. Not only that, when Charlotte came to London to help me, he tried to put me up against her too. He told me not to trust her. He was isolating me! Making me trust only him. While he was the one who shouldn’t be trusted! Can I trust such a man in marriage?’

Georgiana shook her head, and Charlotte threw her arms around her.

‘I wish it would be easier to be rid of him. If I could carve out my heart, I would. It’s all so confusing.’

‘You’re right. It’ll be very hard to forgive him and move on.’

‘How can I even forgive him for everything he did? I love him, but is he still redeemable? I want to be with him. But can I? You know what marriage is like. You have no rights as a woman. I would be entirely dependent on him. Can I depend on him? History has proven me I can’t’, Georgiana asked of Esther.

Esther had her own answer to that question. She didn’t know Otis well enough, but she knew she would never be able to trust Edward again.

‘To err is human; to forgive is divine’, Charlotte said.

Georgiana looked to her best friend.

‘Alexander Pope’, Charlotte explained.

‘He made mistakes. He made many. But, some men are stupid. Some men need to make mistakes so they can learn to do what is right.’

‘Walk into a wall a couple of times before they get it’, Esther understood.

Charlotte nodded, grateful that they were on the same wavelength.

‘Forgiving is hard. I sometimes still cringe when I remember things I said months ago. But I can’t take those things back. I can only apologize and do better in the future’, Charlotte explained.

‘Charlotte, with all respect, but a couple of bad expressions doesn’t equal amassing thousands of pounds in debt, avoiding debtors, lying, manipulating and selling your fiancée. Not only are his crimes a lot greater, they were done deliberately. You merely expressed yourself wrongly, you never mean harm. And you always apologize when someone points out a mistake. You even apologize if I notice your writing is sloppy’, Georgiana smirked. ‘When those debtors tried to confront Otis, well, he avoided them. That was deliberate. The letter says it. He lied. You don’t lie by accident, only if you don’t know the truth. But he did.’

Charlotte nodded softly.

‘I know. I was only comparing it to say that he cannot change his past, only his future.’

Georgiana nodded in agreement.

‘But I don’t want to hope. I don’t. Because I don’t know if I’ll survive a second disappointment again’, she said, tears finally running over her dark cheeks. She wiped them away in anger.

‘I hate feeling like a victim and he made me one. I hate feeling so sad all the time and he broke my heart. I hate how my mood is so dependent on him… But on the other hand I still want him. I wish I could trust him. I wish I could marry him. I miss him. I miss our conversations. I miss laughing. I miss the sound of his voice. I miss the way he tells stories. I miss the way how just one look of him could make me feel all giddy on the inside. I want this letter to be true. I want him to succeed. But I don’t know if he can. And I can’t bear giving him my heart until I can be certain that he’ll keep his promises.’

‘His regret seems genuine’, Charlotte offered.

‘But is he really regretful of his actions, or is he regretful of what they cost him? Once he is assured he has me, what’s keeping him from doing it again. He won’t lose me because of it anymore.’

Georgiana had been petulant and emotional like a child. Always emotional and rude and dramatic, but in this, her maturity shone through. She wasn’t reckless. She appeared to have thought it through quite thoroughly, and she appeared to be very aware and careful of the risks attached to him.

Georgiana and Anne knew at seventeen more about man’s nature than Esther had done at twenty-three before the past couple of months. She hadn’t been a fool, she had known Edward’s vices, but she had never considered the pros and cons of being with him like they did. She just rolled with the punches her heart gave her.

‘Do you think that?’ Charlotte asked of Georgiana.

‘I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. It’s just, my confidence has been betrayed once, and now I don’t know whether I can trust him. I want to believe he is actually regretful, his letter certainly sounds like it. But he has lied before.

‘He had no problem with lying in the past. He deliberately lied to hide the bad parts of himself he knew people would disapprove of. He’s stopped lying now. He even admits to struggling even now. If he wanted to lie, he could’ve said he’d been doing great and hasn’t tried to gamble a single time’, Charlotte pointed out.

‘I know. I’m amazed by the amount of honesty too. And his letter was so eloquent. So emotional. I want to believe him. I want to believe him!’ Georgiana cried.

Charlotte softly stroked her back. A knock on the door perturbed the emotional moment, with a maid announcing Esther’s carriage was ready. Esther thanked the maid and asked her to make the driver wait a bit longer.

She wanted to say something comforting to Georgiana to put the girl at ease. But there was no miracle cure that would solve her problems before she had to go to Babington and Anne.

Anne…

Anne!

‘You want to believe him and you want him to be a better man… So why don’t you give him the chance to show you he’s being honest and being faithful to his promises?’ Esther asked.

‘Esther, I just said…’

‘You don’t trust him and you don’t want to risk getting hurt. I know. But why choose now? As you said, you’re still in love with him. You’re not moving on. And you’re not able to forgive him yet. So, why not tell him you’ll decide whether you want to marry him once he returns? Then you have another couple of months to a year to make up your mind about him. In the meantime, he’ll have to stay true to his promises for a prolonged period of time while his loyalty and devotion will be tested. And as long as you don’t answer him he can’t use you or believe you’ll be there for him when he screws up. Let him show you he’s being truthful.’

Charlotte hesitantly smiled, and Georgiana too, seemed inclined to accept the proposition.

‘I must admit, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to give him even that. I don’t want to forgive him. Forgiving means being fine with his mistakes instead of making him pay, and I’ll never be fine with them. But I do want him and I want to be able to move on from them. To punish him is to punish myself. Because I’m the thing keeping him and me apart. I’m keeping myself from being happy.’

‘You’re also keeping yourself from being harmed’, Esther supplied.

‘Maybe my distrust will be adequate punishment. He’ll have to earn me if he wants me. He’ll have to deliver on his promises. It’s the only way there can ever be a future for us. Because I can’t trust his on his word. Not right now. Not yet.’

‘That’s reasonable’, Charlotte confirmed.

Esther nodded in agreement.

‘Thanks Esther. I’ll think on it. I hadn’t considered it.’

‘No problem at all.’

Georgiana mustered a weak smile.

‘Go to your fiancé. I don’t want to incur his wrath by keeping you from him.’

‘Hah, now there’s a joke, I fear him less than a declawed kitten’, Esther laughed.

Georgiana grinned and Charlotte covered her mouth from smiling too widely.

‘See you at dinner.’

‘Bye!’

‘Give them our greetings.’

‘I will!’

Esther was welcomed into the Babington household and quickly shown into the drawing room.

Seated on an ornate pink couch on golden feet sat her fiancé, and on the couch across of him sat Mr. Crowe.

Esther halted, searching the apparition for any signs of recent illness, but there were none to be found. His skin was pale but had a healthier shine than before, his hair looked to be freshly washed, his eyes sharp and his dress perfect.

But there was a flicker of annoyance on his face as she had been shown inside, before he gave her his usual sardonic smile.

‘Esther! You’re late. How unbecoming’, Anne declared as she rose from her seat at the piano.

‘How impolite to point out’, Esther quipped back.

The girl smiled as she guided her to a chaise longue.

‘There, you even blend in perfectly with the room. I forgive you for your tardiness since you took such care of your dress’, she smiled as Esther sat down on the white and pink flower patterned seat.

‘I had something come up right before I left’, she explained.

‘Nothing bad, I hope?’ Lord Babington asked.

‘No. My friends and I were discussing how to answer a certain letter.’

‘You discuss that?’ Lord Babington asked.

‘Of course. Why, don’t writers of letters deserve the best and most thought through answers?’

‘Naturally. Although it sounds quite intimidating to know the contents of a letter could be lengthily discussed with others.’

‘Didn’t you talk to me about the contents of a letter just last month?’ Mr. Crowe pointed out.

Lord Babington’s cheeks flushed.

‘I did not read the letter to you.’

‘But you discussed its full contents and how they made you feel’, his friend teased, delighting in how Babington squirmed in his seat. He wondered whether Miss Denham knew it was about the letter she had sent him.

‘Ah! At least now we’re assured both sexes do it. You cannot fear us doing it if you do it yourself, dear brother’, Anne declared.

‘Talking about letters, I’ve written a few’, Mr. Crowe explained as he retrieved a small stack of letters from his eggplant coloured coat. ‘Who do I have to give them to? I’ve missed a few appointments the past week and I need to inform some people.’

‘Oh, you can give them to me, I’ll give them to the right servant’, Anne replied quickly, jumping up to extend her hand.

‘Much obliged’, Crowe thanked her.

‘I see you’re doing well, Mr. Crowe’, Esther noticed.

‘I am well, finally. It’s lasted long enough.’

‘And we’re glad to have you amongst us again, my friend’, Babington smiled, patting his friend on the knee.

Crowe endured his friend’s love with an awkward smile.

‘Miss Denham, how have you been the last couple of days?’ Anne enquired.

‘Well, I suppose. We’ve been painting and reading, and spending our days with the usual useless occupations.’

‘It’s only useless if you didn’t better yourself or learn anything new’, Anne replied.

‘I learned practice does little to improve my skill with a paint brush.’

That made her fiancé laugh, and managed to crack a laugh out of Mr. Crowe.

‘Talking about things you perceive yourself to be bad at, do you want to play a duet with me?’ Anne asked, nodding at the piano.

‘If you wish’, Esther sighed without feeling particularly against it.

Anne smiled and took Esther to the gorgeous piano, laying the stack of letters of Mr. Crowe on top of it. Esther, being rather tall, managed to catch a glimpse of the top letter, and recognized a certain name.

‘Miss Brereton’, she mumbled to herself, looking at Mr. Crowe on the other side of the room.

‘Have you been talking to Miss Brereton, Mr. Crowe?’ Esther asked.

Mr. Crowe’s back straightened as he looked over at the piano.

Anne quieted, a frown appearing on her face as she now examined the stack of papers.

‘I have.’

‘I had no idea the two of you were so closely acquainted.’

‘We got along in Sanditon, shared a couch back to London on the day of the regatta.’

The day she was sent away.

Esther didn’t know how to feel about that.

The memory of Clara was entwined with the one of Edward They could not be separated from each other. Edward had hurt her, by cheating on her with Clara… twice. And together they had tried to resolve the matter of the inheritance without including her.

Clara had also tried to drop hints about Esther’s love for Edward to their aunt. On top of that she had confessed to having slept with Edward for no reason but to hurt Esther.

She had good reasons to dislike her. But was her niece the enemy? She had been, but that was due to their aunt using her will and testament to make all of her younger cousins comply and battle each other. And Clara had tried to warn her about Edward. She’d pointed out Edward’s nature. But Esther had always assumed Clara pointed it out so she could have Edward for herself. Their whole relationship was defined by the rivalry Lady Denham had set up.

‘I don’t get it, who is Miss Brereton?’ Anne asked.

‘My aunt’s niece, the daughter of one of her sisters. She was my aunt’s companion.’

‘Was, so she isn’t anymore?’

‘No.’

‘What happened?’

_She screwed my brother on the snake mosaic floor._

‘I don’t think that’s something I’m at liberty to discuss with people who aren’t family.’

Babington’s brow furrowed. He knew that whatever had transpired had lead to a permanent separation of Edward and Esther, but even he didn’t know what had happened.

‘Maybe in a couple of months’ time we can retake this conversation.’

‘That would still leave Mr. Crowe’, Esther noted.

Anne remained silent, softly pressing a couple of keys to stretch her fingers.

Perhaps it was inconsiderate of Esther to neglect Anne’s feelings. It was likely that she’d be sad when reminded of how she and her crush weren’t together.

‘So what? Not like Babington wouldn’t tell me’, Crowe shrugged. ‘Whether you say it in my presence or not, I’ll know.’

Esther wondered whether Mr. Crowe already knew of what had transpired in Sanditon. It would surprise her if he did, yet still kept up an acquaintance with Clara. Although, perhaps a libertine like him didn’t care whether a woman debased herself or played dirty to get a chunk of an inheritance.

‘I’m sorry to say that won’t be the case, Crowe, unless my wife would want you to know.’

Mr. Crowe threw Esther a look from underneath his dark brows.

‘Coming between friends, are we?’

‘She has the right too, that’s how marriages work. Married couples are each other’s closest confidants’, Babington reasoned.

‘You say this now, my friend, but when you find a wife, you shall understand. Would you really want to betray your wife’s trust for me?’

‘When I have a wife, you shall know everything there is to know!’, Mr. Crowe declared proudly.

Esther choked on her laugh, but Anne and Babington laughed freely.

 _Of course he’d know everything if your wife would be his sister._ Anne and Crowe would probably fight over who would get to tell him everything.

Esther wondered if Anne laughed because she imagined marrying him and telling her brother everything before he could. Or whether she just laughed because she disagreed with Crowe.

That’s when Esther caught it; a brief glance of mischievous blue eyes thrown their way. Esther looked aside to find Anne looking away from the direction of the two men.

Curious.

‘We will talk when you’re engaged. But I would advice you to place your lady’s feelings above my right to know things as your friend.’

‘Rest assured I will, Babbers. But I’d never take on a wife who’d keep me from confiding in my friends.’

‘Then you know she’ll talk about everything you do and say in equal measure to her friends.’

‘As she has a right to. I already know ladies tell everything to their friends, even before there is talk of an official engagement’, Crowe chuckled.

Did he learn that from overhearing his sister?

‘So what shall we play?’ Esther asked, deciding the conversation had run its course.

‘Oh, perhaps this one? Maria Hester Park, Sonata in E-flat Major?’

‘Never played it. I’ll follow you’, Esther shrugged.

Anne started to play, nimble fingers darting across the smooth ivory keys.

The men continued their discussion and the ladies were left to talk and play unobserved.

‘We had a talk this morning’, Anne announced quietly.

‘What about?’

The girl’s cheeks reddened, but her smile grew sizeably.

‘He loves me.’

Esther missed a note and hit a wrong key with her other hand.

Startled, she threw a cautious look at the men before putting her hands back on the keys.

She hadn’t expected it. She’d seen his glances at her, but had only be able to detect desire. She hadn’t seen enough interactions between them. And then there was Clara, who he was writing to, an unmarried man to an unmarried woman. Of course, it could be excused since he mentioned that he had written to those he had promised to meet but had failed to contact due to his illness. Yet, she could not trust Clara around men.

Once a girl lost her virtue, what kept her from approaching other men she liked?

‘That’s good news’, Esther decided, once she was confident that she could play along with the melody.

‘Do the two of you… have an understanding?’

‘Of sorts… There are certain matters that make a direct engagement unwise. But I’m hopeful there will be one within the year’, Anne answered.

‘Matters?’

Anne’s eyes travelled across the room, to where Crowe was drinking tea from a tiny cup.

‘The drinking’, she whispered.

Esther understood. Although she was curious to know which one had decided to keep off the engagement until he had his drinking under control. It was a wise decision to wait until he could prove he had conquered his vices.

However…

‘And you’ve promised to wait?’

Anne nodded.

‘I’m young. I won’t die of waiting a couple of months or years.’

‘As long as you’re sure. You are allowed to change your mind if he… fails.’

‘I’m sure. My feelings didn’t change for a whole year, I don’t see why they would start changing now.’

Esther nodded, as they started another song.

‘Actually, it’s him. He doesn’t thing marrying me is the best idea at present.’

‘He is very considerate.’

‘I know, right?’ she asked giddily.

‘I hadn’t expected him to be that way, you know. Like alright, on the one hand he always was kind and a gentleman, but I didn’t think he saw his own behaviour as that big of problem, to the point that he felt unworthy of marrying me.’

‘He said that?’

Anne just smiled.

‘He also protested when I told him I’d tell you.’

‘Ah, so that was what it was about! And I take it the comment about Babington knowing everything when he marries has to do with your secret understanding as well?’

Anne laughed.

‘There, I believe you are right Crowe. What could the ladies be so furiously whispering about?’

‘Are you accusing us of talking about men?’ Esther asked of Babington, quirking an eyebrow.

‘I would not dare.’

‘You would be right though, but do you _really_ want to know?’ Esther teased.

Babington, thinking it was about him, laughed loudly, shaking his head.

‘I’ll allow you ladies your secrets.’

‘And then we can have ours’, Crowe decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girls running around discussing how to respond to messages of their sweethearts, tale as old as time :p
> 
> Update: 10/06/2020 22h30(GMT+2): Soooo... Literally ten minutes after I first uploaded this chapter the Sanditon Official posted the clip of Georgiana reading Otis' letter. Mine doesn't resemble it at all. But I prefer mine. Series Otis™ shows no remorse for his actions at all and DEMANDS georgiana waits for him until he claims her. No Otis fan lol.


	16. It's raining cats and dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it, my exams are over :)  
> As always I fell ill right after my exams from the pent up stress but I'm doing slightly better now. So, because I deserve it, and we all deserve it, a cute light chapter.

‘Ah, Esther, do you have anything to do this morning?’ Lady Denham asked as she stirred some milk into her tea at the breakfast table.

‘No aunt, I don’t.’

‘And I hope your little companions have no need of you?’

‘No, they’ll be out.’

They had decided to take a walk in the park, and if they happened upon a certain Mr. Stringer, that was just lucky coincidence. Esther didn’t feel particularly inclined to join them. She was too nervous.

Today was the day she would meet the one and only Lady Babington, mother of Lady Anne and her fiancé. She had been nervous about meeting Anne as well, even though Lord Babington had assured her there was no need to be afraid and his soothing words had proven to be true.

However knowing his mother would probably be like her children did not change her feelings. Her nerves and anxiety pooled like venomous snakes inside her stomach, coiling around each other and lashing out at her insides. One second she was fine and the next she was hunched over, holding her stomach as panic constricted her breathing.

She had tried distracting herself, but her book blurred in front of her eyes. Her thoughts were too loud, they demanded to be heard. But of course there was one person in the house whose demands surpassed the demands of her thoughts.

Lady Denham was always late to break her fast, so Esther had already been up for a couple of hours, ravaging her bottom lip and wringing her hands by the time Lady Denham halted her during her pacing through the house.

‘Then I demand that I get the attention I am due, today. I already sent off my previous companion, and soon I shall loose you. But for the time being you’re still mine, so I’ll have some of your time. Lord knows I pay enough to earn it.’

It was as much of a declaration that Lady Denham would miss her niece as she was ever going to get.

The three girls had done most of their painting, writing and playing in the presence of Lady Denham, and had taken their lunch, tea and dinner with her as often as possible, but private moments between her and her aunt were few and far in between.

Esther kept her company and allowed Lady Denham to tell her about all the gossip she’d heard from her London acquaintances. She talked so much and so quickly Esther couldn’t even think. Once breakfast was wrapped up they moved to the blue drawing room. The weather had finally turned around and angry blue grey clouds were flocking together, slowly fanning out across the city. It would rain today, and probably the following days as well.

The heat in the city had become unbearable, perhaps the rain would take some of it away and turn the dry yellow grass in the garden green again, although Esther doubted it.

Lady Denham retrieved her cards, and this time Esther felt she couldn’t refuse. As the old woman shook the cards, a first thunder, a long-stretched deep rumble, resounded. The storm god was awakening slowly after weeks of sleep. By the time Lady Denham slid some cards towards her, the rumble became more frequent until after final loud rumble a blinding crooked line of light cleaved through two dark clouds.

Seconds later, rain started beating down their window. There was no moment of soft hesitant drizzle, the dam had broken in a matter of seconds and the rain came gushing down.

‘I hope Charlotte and Georgiana were already on their way home.’

They were on foot today, and had planned to walk quite far. If they were still at the farthest point, it would take them at least twenty-five minutes to get home. They would be soaked.

‘Oh, it’s London, for heaven’s sake. If they’re far away they can run to a shop and hide there’, Lady Denham sighed, rolling her eyes.

Esther chuckled and picked up her cards.

‘And actually, I don’t mind them being far away since they are nowhere near married while you will be in two weeks’ time.’

Another thunder rolled around and shivers ran up Esther’s arms. There was something about the way that Lady Denham said it that Esther just knew this was going to be an awkward conversation.

‘As you don’t have a mother anymore, nor any friends that are already married, I see that I must take up the task to inform you.’

‘Aunt, really?’ Esther begged. She could feel the mortification pumping through her, increasing exponentially with every heartbeat. The thought of having her aunt educate her on such matters was overwhelmingly embarrassing. She didn’t want to think of her aunt in that way, nor did she want her aunt to think of _her_ in that way. She knew it was only natural, one of the goals of marriage was reproduction after all.

‘Unless you already know what awaits you?’ Lady Denham shot back, quirking an eyebrow. It was a low blow, but not beneath her aunt. Her living arrangement with Edward had left things debatable, but she had _never_.

Esther had been thrust into mourning at the age of eleven due to the death of her father, and had been forced into mourning again at the age of thirteen. If there was a way to stunt the natural development of a young girl, it was the trauma following the death of three parental figures. She’d been sent to a superior but very strict boarding school by Lady Denham shortly after her mother’s death. Being hurt the way she was, she hadn’t been very sociable, and had missed most chances to form friendships by the time she was finally ready to form one.

So she’d missed the gawking over boys and the talk of girls with married siblings during her youth. By the time she came back home, she’d gotten faint clues of the secrets of the marriage bed through her brother, meaning she knew it could take place outside a marriage and could be done for other reasons than procuring children, but that was it. And she wasn’t exactly curious to know what Edward did with other women.

‘Aunt! I will not sit here and allow you to insult my honour. I’ll walk away’, Esther threatened.

‘Oh stay put, girl. Can I not speak I my mind in my own home, can’t stand some teasing, hmph! It’s not like _I_ delight in having this talk, I’m doing this for you. You should be grateful. I see that you’re flustered, so it seems I _do_ need to have a talk with you about it.’

‘I am not… _Flustered’_ , Esther protested, forcing the words past her lips.

Lady Denham’s lips turned upwards in an amused and satisfied smile as her niece fumbled for words.

‘I see’, Lady Denham noted wryly, laying a card on the table.

‘So, if you’re not, you won’t mind me being blunt’, Lady Denham declared before reaching down for a mortar and pestle.

Esther ignored the attributes and put a card on the table.

She was out of her depth playing against Lady Denham and she was very much out of her depth in their discussion as well.

It was not that she was unwilling to share the marriage bed, but admittedly the thought of sharing and baring herself in the most intimate way was quite intimidating. She couldn’t even imagine her future husband baring himself. No matter how much she liked kissing him, the idea of seeing Lord Babington ridden of his finery and locked in a room together with hi felt all kinds of wrong and sinful and uncomfortable, so she always banished the thoughts as soon as they presented themselves.

Lady Denham had no notion of the delicacy of Esther’s thoughts and planted the items loudly in the middle of the table.

‘Let’s not be ninnies about it. We all bleed down there and the importance of virginity escapes no one, so I needn’t explain what this represents’, Lady Denham declared.

Esther took a deep breath, shaking her head.

‘And if you’ve ever paid attention to those Grecian and Roman statues, you can imagine what this will represent’, Lady Denham explained as she held the pestle.

Lady Denham put her hand on the mortar. ‘There you have your virginity.’

She planted the pestle down between some of her fingers. ‘And there you have your deflowering.’

‘Evidently, there’ll be some pain and feelings of discomfort, just like there can be some discomfort during your monthly courses, but not much more. That doesn’t mean it’s enjoyable though. Really, I can truthfully say that during my first marriage I avoided it as much as I could while still doing my duty’, Lady Denham shrugged.

‘But then he was an old man and I a young woman. I found sharing a bed slightly more agreeable the second time around.’

A loud bang from the hallway made the two ladies look up, and Esther jumped to a standing position.

Charlotte and Georgiana stormed in, soaked through and through, giggling like school girls. Their bonnets were so heavy with rain their tops were dented in and the sides were drooping around their head, almost shielding their vision.

‘What’s the meaning of this? Go back to the mats until the servants fetch you some towels. I won’t have you dripping all over my carpets and oaken floors!’

‘Sorry Lady Denham’, Charlotte breathed, pulling Georgiana back to the front door with her.

Lady Denham lifted a bell and cried for the servants.

A horde of servants fluttered upstairs to fetch towels and ran to the girls.

‘Have baths be drawn so they’ll be warm. And you two, stay up until you are fully dry, including your hair! The sight of you two, like a pair of soaked through dogs. You’d think you two were raised in the wild!’ Lady Denham chastised as they went upstairs.

Once the stairs had stopped creaking and they had heard the doors of their rooms slam shut, Lady Denham closed the drawing room doors and turned back to Esther.

‘Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Well, I believe given your husband is obviously fond of you, you needn’t worry about it being a bad experience.’

‘Aunt’, Esther gasped.

‘What? I’m only helping here. I already told you much more than I had to. And it’s all truth. I even worded it delicately. If I wanted to I could’ve talked about how there would be blood and that you would have to undress entirely and –‘

‘Aunt’, Esther sighed.

‘So, my job is done.’

Esther nodded slowly.

‘Good’, Lady Denham declared before taking her attributes off of the table and resuming the card game.

‘Oh, and once you’re over freezing up when you think of it and have started doing it… Name one of the screeching goblins after me. The quietest and most dignified one, preferably.’

Esther thought back on the time she’d watched Charlotte play with the children. She still felt uncomfortable thinking about having to play with tiny children herself. But right now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was Lady Denham’s smirk.

‘Come now aunt, I can’t spot dignity in a child that has no control over its bowels. But there’s no debate that the loudest one should be named after you. It would only be fitting, given her namesake.’

Lady Denham spluttered and puffed but Esther only smiled and continued to lay her cards.

The talk and game had been successful in distracting her for a couple of hours, long enough until the bell rang and Lord Babington had come to pick up his bride. His mother had arrived earlier that morning and was now relaxed enough to have a talk over tea.

Esther was handed an umbrella and was quickly guided into the coach before her dress was ruined.

‘Quite a day’, Lord Babington noticed.

‘I hope my meeting with your mother shall be a happier one than the meeting of the clouds today’, Esther decided humorously.

‘It shall be’, Babington promised, brushing his thumb along Esther’s hand.

For a few minutes, she wished to say nothing at all, merely enjoy the comfortable silence she knew could be between them.

‘And afterwards, we can talk about our honeymoon. I have received replies of all the places we can visit, so you can have your pick and choose the best locations’, Babington announced.

‘I get to decide?’

‘Of course you do.’

‘And I must assume you have no preferences of your own?’

‘Well truth be told, I’ve visited almost all of them in the past. For me it’s more about the journey than the destination.’

‘How cliché’, Esther noted with amusement. ‘What will you do if I say I want to visit all of them?’

‘Taking into account travel time and the time to visit every spot properly… I think it will take until December to visit all.’

‘Stealing you away from all of your friends for half a year shall not endear me to them’, she smirked.

Lord Babington’s eyes sparkled.

‘I wouldn’t complain.’

‘Wouldn’t you? So ready to be at the mercy of your wife’s whims.’

Lord Babington could only look at her, too enamoured by the thought to form an answer.

‘What, nothing to say? Why, I’ll have to be right. You _are_ at my mercy.’

Esther smirked at her fiancé’s subservience and drew him in, pressing her lips against his.

The noises escaping from the back of his throat were simply too delightful and she couldn’t help but smile against his lips.

His jaw slackened, and she quickly took his lip between hers, sucking on it before biting down softly.

It spurred him back into action, his arms soon encapsulating her and pulling her figure against him.

‘Esther.’ The way he said her name was somewhere in between a purr and a prayer.

She could feel the excitement flooding her, heating her up from the tips of her fingers to her toes, with the epicentre of heat pooling in her belly.

It was at that moment Lord Babington’s hands trailed downward to her ribs and the vision of the mortar and pestle came back in front of her closed eyes.

An attempt at envisioning them nude was made without it being even half a conscious decision. But she had only ever seen men of white marble, while he would be flesh.

The heat shot to a boiling point, sinking even lower in her belly as her cheeks glowed.

Distance, she needed distance. She wished to wash her brain clean to get rid of the image.

Lord Babington was oblivious to her mortification and the feeling she mistook for shame and awkwardness but was actually arousal. His lips traced down her neck, finally giving into the urge he’d had in the theatre. But now there wouldn’t be anyone opening the door, at least not in the close future.

Thoughts of escape abandoned, she slumped against him as he planted open mouthed kisses against her neck. Oh, the thought of being only with her the next couple of months, dragged along with any and all of her whims sounded glorious to him. He couldn’t wait.

She, however, could. She needed to distract herself from her thoughts of marble statues and her crazy heart.

‘And what if I don’t like any of the places I can choose from?’ she asked with as much composure as she could hastily gather.

‘That would be sad, as it is too late to secure any new residences abroad before our marriage takes place. However, we could spend our holiday in England. I’ve heard quite a few positive things about this seaside town of Sanditon. It’s going to be the next Brighton I’ve been told’, he breathed against her neck.

‘You insufferable man’, Esther huffed, wanting to draw away to punish him.

‘Insufferable? I?’ he gasped with mock shock.

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Whatever can I do to help it? It is no good to have my future wife think of me in such a manner.’

‘Stop saying stupid things’, Esther teased.

‘Yes, excellent point. Perhaps I should talk less’, he smiled, his breath tickling her neck.

His teeth sunk down in her neck only a second later and Esther was too surprised to even bring out a noise. The feeling was so real, so tangible and so undeniably erotic she was immediately catapulted to heaven. Her eyes rolled back. All rational thought and sense of propriety was banished from her mind.

She was a bonfire, heat incarnate, with a pulsating glowing core at the middle of the puddle that once was Esther Denham. Her muscles had melted in the fire as well, and her hands now fell down from his hair and came to clutch the fabric of his coat as they sought something to hold onto. Just one more minute and she would sink right through the wooden floor of the carriage.

Perhaps it would do her good, then the rain could extinguish her.

‘B…’ Whatever else remained of his name was charred on her tongue as soon as it touched it.

‘My name’, he breathed as he trailed even lower, his nose pushing away the lace that covered the deep cleavage of her dress before he pressed a kiss against it.

‘J-Ohn’, she panted as he bit down again.

He had adjusted his position again, and his left hand was now burning through the fabric of her thigh.

A loose cobblestone on the road jumbled them though, and Babington was brought back to the present.

He had gone too far. She was still not his wife, and it was growing harder and harder each day to be in her presence while having to behave.

He now understood why chaperones were created. He was too excited to be proper around her. He never struggled with restraint like this before. He hoped it would blow over soon, because he didn’t know how he would get through the day if he kept on feeling like this around his wife all the time.

‘I apologize, I went too far. I shouldn’t… do this, until we are married.’

‘Oh yes, now is the perfect time to start being virtuous’, Esther retorted as she rolled her eyes again.

‘Perhaps it is a good thing you want to have a long honeymoon’, he winked.

‘What, think I’ll be holed up in a room with you the entire day while there’s a whole world out there? Why bring me to all those places only to lock me up in a bedroom?’ she teased.

‘Very good point. Though I do hope we’ll spend some time in there’, he admitted.

His eyes fell on her cleavage, the lace was moved a slight purple red rose was blooming right where his teeth had been as the carriage had been shaken up.

‘Well of course we must be there for some hours for the necessary activity called sleeping’, she smirked.

‘Uhm, Esther’, Lord Babington muttered wiping his hand against his chest.

‘What. Is this too distracting? You’ve seen me with my cleavage exposed plenty of times before’, she smirked.

‘I do not complain dear, it is quite a lovely view, but right now you might want to… cover up.’

Her eyes fell down, a silent gasp tumbling from between her lips.

‘Lord Babington, you rascal.’

‘I apologize. It was the bump. I don’t usually make them by accident. I didn’t mean to.’

‘I don’t usually make them by accident?’ Esther repeated.

‘Yes well…’ Lord Babington turned away from her, stealing a glance outside from behind the curtain to check how much time they had left.

‘I apologize. But it isn’t the first time I have touched a woman’s throat.’

She couldn’t blame him, he was pushing thirty and as a man, there was little chance of him not having indulged in other women before. Yet she could feel a pang of – was it jealousy? – at hearing him say so.

‘Hopefully the last.’

‘That’s what I want’, Lord Babington answered, smiling at her.

Esther fumbled to put the lace back in place. It covered up the spot perfectly.

‘Do that again _by accident_ , and I put one on you, no accident.’

Lord Babington’s eyes glowed at the statement.

‘My dear, you make it sound as a punishment. You’re almost tempting me to do it again if that will be the consequence.’

Esther huffed, rolling her eyes.

‘Incorrigible man.’

And then they arrived.

Lady Babington had given up on finding suitable matches for her son years ago. As a matter of fact, she had learned that the more matches she offered him, the less interested he was in looking at any of them. In the end, she had contented herself knowing that he had lived in London for years without falling prey to pretty fortune huntresses so she knew that should he want to marry one day, he would do so with a girl he truly wanted to marry and was of good substance. She mourned that her husband did not live to see the day his letter announcing his engagement finally arrived, but she was glad all the same that the moment had come before he was on the other side of five-and-thirty. Although, admittedly, she had hoped to have heard of the girl at least once before news of his engagement arrived.

The past few weeks Lady Babington had read a couple of lines about her, written by both of her children, but as a mother she of course felt the need to know the girl inside out before she married her only remaining boy and heir.

From what she had gathered from her children’s letters it was clear that both were very fond of her. No details about her past were given except that both her parents and her stepfather had died years ago and she was now under the care of her aunt. Further the only things she knew was that Esther Denham was pretty, witty and of good stock. Lady Babington was curious to see what kind of girl her son could not find in their environment or London, but was instead found in small coastal village.

Taking her weeks of wondering into account, it was perhaps no surprise that Lady Babington felt puzzled when her son brought a woman into the living room that was closer to his age than her daughter’s. She looked pretty, with a magnificent head of red hair, as she curtsied politely albeit stiffly, her face was reserved and devoid of the natural and carefree warmth that was praised in society and so easily found on the face of her own children.

Lady Babington, by natural preference and the values society propagated, much preferred open honest faces that laughed easily. She had a preference for easy and carefree manners and honest passionate speech. Although she did see the value of carefulness, tact and good sense. But in her opinion one could still act carefree while deliberately thinking of what one said.

‘Miss Denham, do sit down’, Lady Babington smiled, waving her hand elegantly across the tea set-up.

‘I am glad to finally meet you. I was most curious. I simply had to see you for myself before the wedding.’

After such weeks of anticipation about what magnificent kind of woman had finally convinced her son to marry, the real Esther stood little chance of being admired. Her qualities did not recommend themselves and could not count on public praise, it was only later on that their value was oftentimes recognized.

‘The pleasure is returned. Your children have only sung your praises.’

‘Have they?’ Lady Babington asked with delight.

‘A mother enjoys knowing her children think well of her.’

Esther’s smile was wry, as it was wont to be at the mention of someone enjoying a motherly role while Esther neither had the pleasure of being one herself or having one. However, as far as first impressions went, she could not find fault in the girl’s elegant posture, refined pronunciation and general airs.

The servants brought in the boiling water and Lady Babington prepared their teas. The rain was still beating down the window.

‘Are you experienced in the art of tea making, Miss Denham?’ asked his mother.

‘Some, although I can’t proclaim myself to be an expert’, Esther answered truthfully. Lady Babington wondered whether this was a girl who genuinely valued honesty, or pretended to be modest. Her question was quickly answered by her son.

‘Nor do you proclaim to be an expert at anything else, yet you are quite good at almost everything you do’, Lord Babington noted.

The redhead, whose gaze had been fixed on her shiny, now shot Lord Babington an annoyed look. She could see the girl’s eyes were turning upwards, but she managed to stop herself and look back at the table, folding her hands. So the girl had restraint.

‘Is my son speaking truthfully, Miss Denham? Are you modest?’

‘I would not call myself modest, Lady Babington. That would mean I could not adequately estimate the value of my skills. Your son is too mild in his judgement of my skillset.’

‘I am not’, Lord Babington protested.

‘You say you’re not good at any instrument. However both my sister and I think you play the piano quite well. How do you explain that without admitting your modesty makes you downplay your skill?’

‘I do not possess such modesty. I do not pretend to be anything because of some silly concept of virtue. Perhaps you and your sister cannot separate the art from the artist’, Esther replied, only looking at her fiancé when she delivered her answer.

Some unspoken words floated between them, and Lady Babington noticed his hand going to cover hers briefly.

‘Perhaps we are biased indeed as you are dear to us.’

Already the Denham girl proved to be quite interesting. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t answering to please, yet her answers were truthful and tactful. Lady Babington had to admit the girl appeared to have a good amount of sense.

‘Speaking of your sister, where is she?’ Esther asked as she took a sip of tea.

It was an easy transition, without any awkwardness or abruptness. Her son smiled, looking outside.

‘She is visiting some friends. She wanted to be back before tea was served but I fear the weather is keeping her there’, Lady Babington answered.

‘Now, it’s probably awkward if I ask you a lot of questions about yourself, but you must allow me to indulge in a few before we start talking about the wedding.’

Esther nodded.

And so what followed were the usual questions: her age, her family and her hobbies. She did not feel the need to ask how they met, she already knew that from her son, and she would allow them to have their courtship to themselves.

‘But now about the wedding, I wish to know everything. What’s already arranged?’

And so Esther told her about the wedding breakfast at Lady Denham’s and the courses that would be served, that a special wedding dress was in the makings and the flower arrangements were already chosen. Lady Babington approved of the selection of flowers and herbs included in the arrangements and the courses, and was impressed by the embroidery the girl had done upon examining some of the textiles Esther had brought along with her. The girl had already done quite a lot.

‘And you have done this by yourself or?’

‘Well, I rarely decided about anything on my own, except for the dress and I had two friends help me with the embroidery but that is it.’

‘I’m impressed, that’s a lot of work.’

‘But about the wedding, you told me you lost your mother and grandmothers quite a long time ago. Pray, child, do you have anyone instructing you on what to expect of marriage?’ Lady Babington asked kindly.

Oh no, Esther thought, not _again_.

Thoughts of another conversation with a pestle and a mortar flashed through her mind, this time with the woman who birthed the pestle-holder. She couldn’t go through that again.

‘Yes, my aunt has seen to it’, Esther replied quickly.

A loud thunder shook the windows, distracting the three tea drinkers. It also drowned out the sound of the room across the hallway slamming shut after Mr. Crowe exited it. Babington had announced he would be introducing his mother and his fiancée to each other, so Mr. Crowe knew his presence was not desired, nor was he jumping to join them. He was happy to retreat into the smoking room in peace. He’d been feeling jitters ever since waking up almost a week ago, and the anxiety of having his future mother-in-law in the house wasn’t helping at all.

He’d met her that morning and was introduced to her as Babington’s friend. She was polite and friendly, and he was grateful that unlike Esther Denham he got to meet her before being introduced as the one stealing away one of her children. However, given that at some point he wanted to take away her youngest child and only daughter, he had wanted to make a good impression. He hadn’t tried appearing impressive, civilised and polite in a very long time, probably not since before his college days.

He could feel the awkwardness of every word crossing his lips. He’d been so close to damning it all and just giving up the pretence, but Anne had been right there, looking so goddamned hopeful he just shut up instead. It was infinitely frustrating. He knew he could be so eloquent but instead of smoothly navigating the conversation like he navigated the streets in a phaeton, he was instead walking across cobblestoned streets filled with glass shards on bare feet. He had experience with both. He had always been awkward around people, drinking had made it easier for him to speak his mind without overthinking every word. He tried to tell himself he could be eloquent ánd less rude without the drink, but right now his self-consciousness and the lack of sleep due to his nightmares wasn’t making it easy on him. Blessedly, he still had some ganja left. He used it sparingly, mixing it with his tobacco. It managed to calm his nerves a great deal longer than plain tobacco did, and even managed to limit his nightmares to a certain extent. He doubted Anne would approve of him swapping a bottle for a herb, but right now he was allowed some small comforts while trying to adjust to life without his security blanket.

He looked across the hallway. The big dark oaken doors were still closed. Despite his misery, he found a certain measure of enjoyment in the knowledge that Babington and Miss Denham were currently being interrogated by Babington’s mother. His own mother had been insufferably nosy whenever he returned from college. If Babington’s mother was anything like it, this would be a hundred times worse than that.

Could either of them actually even explain what had happened in Sanditon? He’d seen it with his very own eyes and wasn’t even able to get used to the idea. He could still remember the day Parker begged them to go to Sanditon for a few days to please his brother, even though he admitted it was nothing but an old fishing village that had put on airs.

Babington hadn’t been jumping to go to that hell hole or fall in love. And Miss Denham had even rejected him during his first proposal. Just what had made the one ask and the other one accept?

_‘Come on, we can do this for Sidney.’_

_‘But there isn’t even anything to do’,_ Crowe had complained. ‘Just some ball, but we have our choice of balls in London. It’s not anything special. They don’t even have a brothel.’

 _‘I’m not exactly enthusiastic either. I can think of a couple of ways I could better spend my time, but he’s our friend. And eh, Crowe, we’re meant to rent some of the accommodations, can’t do that if you’re holed up in a brothel’_ , his friend had laughed.

 _‘Those deserve reviews too’_ , Crowe had smirked before taking a drink.

 _‘I pray for the girl who’ll end up with you.’_ Images of his sister flashed through his mind, walking through a garden with a carefree smile on her face.

 _‘No need to, my friend, it is thanks to those brothels I’ll know exactly how to service her’_ , he decided to say instead.

_‘As will you, might I add. Because I do recall entering them with you.’_

_‘Only a few times.’_

_‘As I, alright perhaps I have a bit more, but I dare say I remember less trips than you’,_ Crowe smirked.

_‘I wish I would remember less trips.’_

_‘That bad?’_

_‘No, it’s just… Don’t you ever feel like it’s… all empty? There’s no meaning behind any of it.’_

‘It’s what we satisfy ourselves with until a wife comes around. Although there are those who keep on mistresses and whores even when they are married’, Crowe admitted.

‘I’m not going to be one of them I think. When I marry… When I marry, I want her to be everything a woman can mean to a man’, Babington had slurred. It was late on the evening after all, and they had been drinking.

 _‘All? That’s no short list of things she needs to mean’_ , Crowe had laughed.

_‘You know what I mean. I want to want my wife, desire her… But I also want to be able to talk to her and laugh with her and confide in her, and be able to trust her with my estate and future children, and she must be able to move in my circles.’_

_‘Let me know when you find her, then I might pick another one up there as well.’_

_‘Are you looking, my friend?’_ Babington had smiled.

 _‘Are you? You never seemed unsatisfied with your life before’_ , he quickly shot back instead of answering.

_‘I’m starting to look, I admit. But I haven’t been able to find anyone who can convince me to give up my bachelorhood.’_

_‘Just do me and Parker a favour and pick someone who’s nice to look at and a bit of fun.’_

Babington had laughed at that. _‘Well I do like a girl who laughs. And I will definitely fall head over heels with a girl who can stand her ground against you lot.’_

Oh, good grief. He had been searching, just not with a lot of intent.

_‘Our friend assures us of good sport here. Shall we find any?’_

_‘I believe there's very little shooting in the neighbourhood, sir.’_

He couldn’t believe it. Babington had done exactly as promised. But his annoyance quickly switched into amusement. Oh, he could tease his friend with this. He could laugh about how Babington’s future wife’s reaction to him had been a deciding factor in the choice of the bride.

He was just about ready to continue on his merry way when the front door was opened by a servant from outside. Head bent low, her hair wet and updo ruined, Anne rushed in, arms wrapped around something he couldn’t see.

‘Good gods woman, what on earth?!’

But she paid him no mind.

‘Please, Mr. Donner, a couple of towels. And tell the kitchen staff to bring some milk and scraps of meat’, she quickly ordered the nearby servant.

She rushed forward, shaking her wet tresses away from her face.

‘Alexander’, she smiled as she tried to move past him to the drawing room.

‘Your mother is currently in it, with your brother and Miss Denham.’

‘Oh.’

She bit her lip as she watched the door. Her deliberations were cut short when she bent down, arms rebalancing. His arms shot out, ready to take whatever was tumbling from between the layers of textile in her arms.

It was her cape, he realized, and the contents of it were moving.

‘What the devil?’

‘Language’, she chastised.

‘For god’s sake woman. What is in it?’

Her smile was brilliant.

‘Kittens.’

A servant, not understanding that Anne hadn’t yet decided whether she wanted to enter the room, assumed they were waiting for the doors to be opened and rushed forward to open them. The couple wasn’t able to say anything in time, and found themselves staring right at the three occupants of the room.

Mr. Crowe wanted to pull back his arms where they were connected with Anne’s and the moving contents of her cape, but was afraid that they fell.

‘Anne?’ her mother questioned.

‘Crowe?’ Babington asked.

Esther looked at the pair, a frown on her forehead. She was already laughing internally at the lack of subtlety of the two.

‘I- I just arrived. Mr. Crowe merely helped me once he spotted me struggling.'

‘Struggling with what exactly, carrying your cape?’ Esther asked critically.

‘No. Not just the cape. I can carry it just fine. It’s the contents you see. Oh don’t get angry with me. But I was with Olivia and we had opened a window to let in some of the cool air because the room was too hot, and we kept on hearing these noises… And well… We ventured outside to check and… Can you help me?’

Anne cut her explanation short as she looked at Mr. Crowe. He quietly nodded and they walked to the couch in unison, gently depositing her cape on the couch.

Anne was dripping wet, her entire dress and pelisse were soaked through and clung to every curve of her body. They could all see the rain water dripping from her curls into the expensive rug.

She opened up the cape and four tiny cats were uncovered. Their eyes were blue and their furs grey, black and white. They were wet as well.

‘We found them, and there was no mother to be seen. We left them out there so the mother might come back to retrieve them, but she didn’t… And they were so wet and scared and oh, we couldn’t just leave them there! Olivia’s mother wouldn’t hear of it. I know I didn’t ask permission first but I was afraid that if we left them there they would… you know’, Anne explained to her mother.

Esther inched closer to the couch to inspect the tiny sounds. She had never possessed a pet before, and could hardly decide on what animals were welcome in the Babington house before she was married, but she could instantly feel her heart melting as the tiny things clumsily walked onto the couch.

A pair of big hands with a ring interrupted the scene of the cats licking themselves and bunching together.

Mr. Crowe took up one and held it against his chest, rubbing one dry with the fabric of his billowing sleeves.

Observing the way he immediately took care of Anne’s charity cases, Esther considered that there maybe was some tenderness in him she herself hadn’t observed before.

Taking up the white kitten, Esther considered her dress first. It wasn’t one of her new ones, nor was her spencer, so she decided she could risk it and took it to her breast.

‘Your worry for the beasts is charming, Anne, but how long have you walked around in those wet clothes?’ Esther asked.

‘Uhm. Since Olivia and I took them out of the garden right before I left. That was about an hour ago, I believe.’

‘Go upstairs and get out of those wet clothes. Kittens don’t do well when they’re soaked to the bone but neither will you.’

‘I’ll be fine’, Anne huffed as the servants came in with the towels and the food and drinks.

She took one of the towels and started drying a black kitten with a white belly.

‘I won’t have you indisposed and abed on my wedding day. Go and change, we’ll take care of it’, Esther ordered.

She could feel Mr. Crowe giving her a hard look, and knew Lady Babington was watching her as well, but the words were out and she couldn’t take them back.

‘But the kittens. Can we keep them?’ Anne asked.

‘Your brother and I will talk about it’, Lady Babington answered.

Esther’s heartbeat picked up. Had she done wrong in going to the kittens before Lady Babington and Lord Babington had approved of them? Had she made a mistake when she took up a position of authority and ordered Anne to go upstairs?

‘You know we have dogs at the estate, Anne’, her brother replied.

‘I can keep them away from each other. The dogs aren’t welcome everywhere. And maybe they can even become friends?’ Anne tried.

‘Miss Denham was right, you should change first. Then we can talk’, he replied with a smile.

Anne nodded and left the room.

‘Really, what was she thinking, running out in the rain like that? She could catch a cold. Or worse!’ Lady Babington cried in agitation.

‘She’s young, she’ll be fine. She couldn’t have been out in the rain for longer than twenty minutes’, Crowe replied.

‘But she walked around in wet clothes for an hour. That could damage her lungs, my baby girl’, Lady Babington muttered, rising to a stand. She too came to inspect the cats.

Her fingers brushed across the cloak littered with claws. It was ruined beyond redemption.

‘Should we let her keep them?’ she asked of her son.

Lord Babington shrugged.

‘I don’t think the dogs will like them. They’re smaller than the bunnies and foxing they have no problem hunting’, he replied as he walked over to the couch as well.

‘But there are few disadvantages to cats that we don’t already have with the dogs. They’ll shed hair, but the dogs do that too. They’ll claw a good deal more, that’s for sure. Look at what they’ve done to her coat already.’

‘Well they were transported in a makeshift pitch black bag. I’d claw too’, Crowe noted.

‘Yes, but cats will always claw. They might have done more clawing now because they were stressed, but they won’t stop. They could ruin some of our furniture.’

‘But we don’t allow the dogs on the furniture’, Lady Babington answered.

‘No.’

‘If we don’t let the cats on it, they can’t destroy them.’

‘Yes, indeed’, he agreed.

‘But I’m going upstairs to check in on her. Can you handle it from here, dear?’ Lady Babington asked.

‘Yes, mother.’

Lady Babington left the room, and so Lord Babington was left behind with his best friend, who was now towelling off the third kitten, while Esther was still holding the white one and rubbing a towel over its back.

‘You’re both awfully partial to her’, Lord Babington noted.

‘I’m not!’ they protested simultaneously.

They threw each other a cold look.

‘No matter whether you are going to keep them or not, they deserve to be dry’, Esther protested.

‘What do you think, Esther?’

‘Me, what do I have to say about it. It’s your house?’

‘It’s soon to be our house. You’re going to be living together with those cats more than Anne is. I think she’ll be travelling more than you will.’

‘Not for the first few months’, Esther replied while throwing her husband a secretive smile.

‘But you will after. So what do you think?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never kept any pets’, Esther replied, lifting the kitten to give it a good look. It wriggled, its stiff tail wiggling energetically as it meowed.

Esther bit her lip, considering saying no to it. A tiny pink tongue flicked out, licking Esther’s palm.

Seeing Esther’s smile, and his best friend’s loving eyes as he gazed at his smiling bride, Mr. Crowe knew the decision was made.

‘Obviously, you’ll be keeping them. You and your sister can’t say no to beings in need and Miss Denham is obviously a cat person, not a dog person.’

They both threw him a critical eye, but Lord Babington moved closer to his fiancée all the same, brushing his fingers over the white fur as Esther once again pressed the kitten to her chest.

‘Should we keep all of them though?’ Lord Babington wondered.

‘Well, since Mr. Crowe is such a passionate advocate of them, he could take on at least one’, Esther decided.

‘Excuse me?’

Esther lifted an eyebrow.

‘You’ve been doing nothing but taking care of these kittens and defending them. I thought you understood Anne’s sense of duty in taking care of them’, Esther smirked.

Babington caught on that it was a jab. But he didn’t know it wasn’t about Crowe’s recent behaviour but about his not-engagement to Anne.

Damn her. She was too clever.

He could just imagine Anne’s face when her brother announced some of the cats would have to be given away, cutting off her access to them, and the disappointment she’d feel at having to say goodbye to them. And perhaps he could use the company while his sister was still abroad, the house was always awfully empty.

‘Of course I understand. These tiny ones deserve a home. I will not have it said that I don’t do my Christian charity work’, he answered while giving her a sour smile.

‘Well, Crowe, I must admit I am surprised. I have never seen you willingly taking care of something’, Lord Babington brought out.

The comment was innocent, but Esther could see it hit Mr. Crowe, but he only smiled even though his eyes darkened.

‘Yes well, the act got old. What’s the fun in a _devil may care_ act if it doesn’t shock people anymore? Got to keep you on your toes.’

‘Keep me on my toes?’ Lord Babington laughed. ‘Well my friend, by all accounts, don’t stop shocking me in this new way of yours.’

He lifted a grey tabby.

Esther observed with no small amount of amusement that neither Mr. Crowe, Lord Babington nor the kitten seemed very convinced of Mr. Crowe’s road towards becoming a gentleman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, snuff was a lot more trendy than pipe smoking which was considered rude to do in the company of women, and even in the house. It was pushed towards smoking rooms, taverns and gentleman's clubs by the time of Sanditon. But in Sanditon we don't see anyone doing snuff despite it being the "Golden Age of Snuff" while we see the men smoking in a lot of places. So I kept that (and also because I really don't want the men doing something that can result in ugly brown snot dripping from their noses). 
> 
> I'm not exactly fond of smoking even though I mention it a lot in this story, the scent makes me nauseous. We saw the three friends smoking their pipes regularly and it’s just one of the things men did back then so I try to leave my own opinions at the door. I’m more lenient regarding cannabis (ganja being one of the oldest terms used in English for it) since it has its benefits and especially in Crowe’s case the boy just needs something to calm him down. They didn’t have modern medicine and it’s either this or laudanum, cannabis is definitely the lesser evil between those two. Warning: You can barely overdose on weed and it’s not as unhealthy as most drugs but it has its downsides. For example it turns my boyfriend into a forgetful dummy (Storytime: One night when I went to a gala and he to a party at a friend’s house I entrusted him with the flat keys and he dead-ass locked himself out of my apartment. Luckily we still had the keys to his flat but I really didn’t enjoy having to sit on the street in front of my apartment for an hour in my party heels with blisters on my feet, dressed head to toe in his clothes since one doesn’t wear a Gatsby style ankle length dress covered in shimmers at 4 past noon, until my houselord let me in. Sigh. I’m not saying don’t do drugs, I’m saying moderation is a lovely thing and people should be more moderate in everything they do and think :p 
> 
> I think my story is reaching the end, all plot points I wanted to introduce and all problems I wanted to see revolved are about done and Babington and Esther are quite ready for the wedding. I'll be sorry to end the story I've got to admit.


	17. Honeymoon discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mr. Crowe away to mull over his infatuation, Anne away to clean up and Lady Babington tending to her, Esther and Babington are now alone to talk about the period immediately after their marriage. Honeymoons destinations need to be chosen, insecurities need to be addressed, and both lovers are growing increasingly nervous and impatient due to their wedding date approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I really want to thank all of you for your warm comments and love throughout the entirety of this story. They really warmed my heart, made my mornings when I woke up to them, and put smiles on my face whenever I received a notification!
> 
> I thought I was going to be fast with publishing the final chapters but instead I find myself confronted with a growing writer's block.  
> I've had my grades (they're good yay) but on the downside my family's been hit by bad luck and poor health again and my landlord went behind my back to rent my studio to another person next year. It's been a lot. So I promise I'll do my best to upload but 2020 has been rough. 
> 
> Also: for those of you interested I have a theory about the presence of Babington's mother on tumblr: https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/621897320277114880/mommy-babington. Feel free to agree/disagree. Let me know what you think :)

Esther and Babington remained behind in the room once Crowe left. The kitten had fallen asleep against her chest and now she was unsure how to handle it. She daren’t move her hands.

‘Perhaps now that we’re alone we might run over the potential honeymoon destinations?’ Babington suggested.

‘Might as well’, she agreed.

She followed him to a writing desk where he procured a sheet of paper with a list of places. He pulled out her chair and allowed her to sit down. He sat down next to her and shoved the list her way.

‘I’ll be needing a map’, Esther admitted after looking over the list of destinations.

‘Of course.’

He retrieved a map of Europe and laid it down next to the list. Grabbing a pencil, he set about encircling all possible locations. She felt like she was failing. She was meant to know this. She’d even seen a lot of geography in school, but those days were long behind her.

Dots were made along the length of the French coast and some inland near big cities, there was a dot in the lowest region of Spain where it was closest to Morocco. There were two dots on the bottom of Piedmont; Monaco and Genoa. Was Monaco not independent? Esther’s memory supplied her that it was. Then there were two dots in the Kingdom of Lombardo-Venetia. Her heart plummeted. Venice. Edward had promised to take her. Her eyes trailed down the boot of Europe.

Babington was well connected, probably due to his mercantile adventures with Crowe and Parker, there were three dots in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. Naples, Palermo, and another city that didn’t immediately awakened something in her memory. No, there would be no Rome, Florence or Venice or anything that reminded her of the empty promises Edward had made her. A part of her wished to replace his empty promises with fulfilled ones by Babington, but for her honeymoon she did not wish to take Edward’s shadow with her.

There was a dot in the Swiss mountains, and two in Austria. Then there was Corfu, the recently acquired Malta and a Spanish island. All very warm and summery destinations, or destinations located near historical sites. It looked gorgeous. She would have difficulty choosing. Is she wanted to make the most out of the journey, she would be journeying by boat to all coastal cities. She wouldn’t be able to go inlands.

‘You are quiet’, Lord Babington noticed.

‘That’s because I’m thinking’, Esther protested.

She looked back at the map. They were all just dots on a map. She’d heard about the cities before, and knew what historical artefacts could be found in certain places in Italy, but it was all just book knowledge. There was no guarantee she’d have a nice time.

‘You told me it was more about the journey than the destination to you but you must attach some value to these places, do you not?’

‘I do, but my value doesn’t matter.’

‘Well I’m saying it does. I want to know which ones are the most beautiful. I’m going off on a map, drawings and travel journals, I rather choose based on what you’ve seen with your eyes.’

‘You flatter me by trusting my judgement’, he smiled as he scooted closer to her.

‘Well what do you want to do on our honeymoon? What’s most important? The landscape, the historical sites, the art or the food?’

‘I’d say historical sites and landscapes. I don’t want to feel like I’m in England anymore. Well, art is a bit important too’, she added.

His hand floated towards the roman countries.

‘But not Rome, Venice or Florence.’

His eyebrows furrowed, but she merely shrugged her shoulders.

‘Not really interested in them right now, they’re so talked about. I want to go somewhere more unique first. We can always go after. Right?’

‘Right’, he agreed, accepting her reasons.

‘So someplace less visited is important too?’ he questioned looking back at the map.

‘Well most places are pretty well known, but well…’ She looked at the map as she tried to find a good reason for not visiting Rome due to its popularity while not minding a visit to Naples.

‘Most places are more visited by businessmen or men on their grand tour than ladies?’ Babington suggested.

Esther nodded.

‘It’s not very important if you belief the place is worth of all the gushing’, Esther responded with a light tone. She just prayed Babington wouldn’t say Rome and Venice were worth the hype.

‘I’ll tell you my favourite spots without paying attention to whether we’ll be able to visit them all in one go’, Babington decided with a smile.

His shoulder was softly leaning against hers as he showed her the spots. It sparked a soft fire inside of her.

‘I visited some of these with my tutors when I was about sixteen,’ he smiled as he reminisced a time flown by, ‘during the Peace of Amiens between 1802-1803. My parents dreaded that the war would quickly resume with no clear end in sight and I would thus be disadvantaged from other peers who had the experience.’

‘I didn’t revisit most due to the long war, so my memory might be a bit hazy on the particulars. It’s been about twelve years.’

The reminder of the war fell over them. Esther had barely known a life without the war. The second she became mature, the war hit England. She remembered worrying each year that Edward would enlist, purchase a position to gain prestige and money. She needn’t have feared. Edward would have never endangered his own life.

‘The alps are amazing’, he supplied to break the awkward silence.

‘Such mountains, you cannot understand if you’ve never been there. It’s simply sublime. You feel so insignificant, yet so incredibly alive and victorious when you stand on those mountainsides. And those lakes, the clearest blue you’ll have ever seen. Of course, they’re freezingly cold but…’

‘And you know they were cold how?’

His lips quirked upwards.

‘Because I jumped in of course. Perfectly smooth pure looking surfaces of water simply beg to be interrupted by the human touch, it’s our deeply rooted need to corrupt perhaps’, he laughed. ‘Worth it though. It felt amazing. When you go swimming in the sea you exit sticky with sea salt and there’s sand scraping against your skin the rest of the day, but this? Divine, cool and pure. You’re completely fine when you redress.’

‘So instead of making something out of those ugly beaches we should instead be investing in building cities around the Scottish lakes?’

‘Oh definitely. We really don’t value Scotland enough’, Babington smiled. There was the rebel in him, Esther recognized, the one who had studied Scottish philosophers and learned Scottish history instead of seeing them as some lowly hinterland.

‘Perhaps I should tell my aunt to reconsider her investments.’

‘Don’t, please, for Sidney’s sake’, he begged.

Esther couldn’t hide her laugh.

‘Alright then, keeping my aunt from withdrawing her investments in Sanditon shall be my wedding gift to you personally, apart from the dowry’, Esther smirked.

‘I am forever in your debt, my lady’, he responded as he lifted her hand to press his lips to her ringed fingers.

‘Ridiculous man’, Esther scoffed.

His smile only increased.

‘After the war, of course, all men went out to catch up on the travelling they’d been denied for such a long time. Well, those who still had sufficient finances after the war. I heard some people went to the battlefields of Waterloo, not even full months afterwards. There were still bodies hanging around. I found that particularly distasteful. I immediately went to the pyramids. Then went to Italy, then moved up to the Alps and visited Switzerland and Austria. My German is horrible though. I even had a brief trip to Prussia. Then we went to The Kingdom of the Netherlands and France. I loved the cities with their cobblestone roads and very unique building styles, hearing the local tongue, tasting the local food.’

Esther nodded.

‘Crowe loved meeting the new people most, he always managed to find people with the most extraordinary wartime stories who knew the best of places in the region.’

‘Best places meaning?’

‘Pretty places, but also evening entertainment of course. For him the trip was the ultimate battle of regional drinks. He even kept a notebook. Incredibly amusing. He put everything we drank in it and rated it. And at the end of our trip he made a top ten list. I think he was most fond of Cognac, Dutch gin, champagne, wine from Burgundy and Amaretto.’

Esther could only roll her eyes. Of course he would do that. But it was entertaining that he went for such a scientific approach.

‘Actually, when did you all start working together?’ Esther wondered.

‘You joined Crowe in trashing the house of his previous fiancée so obviously it was some time ago.’

‘We met at the end of my college days and the start of theirs. Him and Sidney were the same age but Sidney wasn’t exactly from our circles. Not that Crowe was from mine, but still, more mine than Sidney’s. But one evening we and a large group ended up in the same stint together. All others went home but we just kept on going from place to place and bottle to bottle until the sun rose. By the next day, we were friends. Sidney’s heart had just been broken, as had Crowe’s. They bonded. So anyways, we had a great deal of fun. Then it was around 1907 or 1908. I was twenty-one, they were nineteen. We were talking about the Sugar Boycott and well, it appeared to us that something as simple as sugar was made very complicated. But we also saw the use of good consumerism and noticed a high demand. We made grand plans but we were just young boys. And Napoleon’s wars were still going on anyways. We all started working soon after, us in London, Sidney in Antigua. However, every time we met we thought about it. We thought that although the continent was off limits the British clearly wanted ethical sugar and we held almost all sugar islands so why not? Sidney had a lot of connections from Antigua so we started looking around to invest in certain companies, appoint people, do our checks to guarantee everything was as we wanted it. But we were still young. Then we found buyers, so on. We really started around 1812. It’s more friends turned partners, but we love calling each other business partners. We were so proud of our business we were constantly calling ourselves partners.’

Esther nodded, taking it all in. Every year of his life was so full. She’d done nothing but watch the years tick by in Sanditon. The prospect of such a busy life was both enticing and terrifying.

 _But he told you he wanted to slow down his pace of life,_ an inner voice told her.

He pointed out two locations in France, a couple around the German speaking areas, and some around the Mediterranean. He told her all about the things he visited in every spot.

‘Do you have any other questions?’

Esther sighed and looked at the map again. Involuntarily, her mind wandered back to the previous hours.

‘I did wrong telling Anne what to do in front of your mother, didn’t I?’ she quietly asked.

‘Hm? No, why?’

‘I was ordering her daughter around as if I was allowed to do so, instead of her or you.’

‘You said what we both wanted to say I believe’, Babington smiled, placing a hand on hers.

Esther tried to smile, but as her aunt had previously told her, she failed horribly at pretending.

‘My dear?’

‘She doesn’t like me.’

‘Why do you believe that?’ he asked her. He knew that assuming why she thought so or telling her it was nonsense wouldn’t work.

Esther shook her head and shrugged.

‘No why? I didn’t catch it. Help me understand.’

‘Are you mocking me?’ she shot back, eyes narrowing on him.

He hadn’t meant his questions in a “you’re imagining things”-way. He quickly raised his hands in defeat. Whenever she felt pushed into a corner she started lashing out. But she needed to see he wasn’t trying to push her.

‘I just want to know to see where I can help. To me she’s just my mother, I don’t look at your interactions with her in the same way.’

Esther sighed and looked back at the map.

‘What do you think about Gibraltar, Majorca, Marseilles, Monaco, Genoa and Malta? Could we do those within our timeframe? Would we have time left for Naples?’ Esther asked instead.

Babington supressed a sigh.

‘It’s about two days to Gibraltar. It would take about three days to see everything there is to see there at a leisurely pace. Majorca is about a day and a half away and we could take about a week there. Then about a day to Marseilles. A week. Monaco is only hours removed but we won’t be able to do anything else that day so I’d say a couple of days at Monaco. Then to Genoa, arriving in the evening of the day of our departure. It’s a very beautiful place with a lot to offer so about a week there. Malta is quite some distance from it so I guess it would be a couple of days but I don’t know how many. And we could definitely spend a small week there. So that makes about.. Let me think… I guess we’ve got a trip of about forty-five days without returning. A little bit over fifty with returning I believe.’

‘And we had to be back by?’

‘About October preferably. Then I have to catch up on all kinds of business and connections before Parliament starts and before winter kicks in for trade. But I could delay it a bit. Many men skip a lot of parliamentary gatherings.’

But Esther didn’t want to start off their marriage by making him neglect his job, or by immediately moving in to his London house without spending time in his ancestral home. Nor was she eager to immediately pick up social life with dinner dates and operas without having time to adjust.

‘I do want to see your house though, and find a balance in responsibilities with your mother. And I would like to settle in before having to subjugate myself to being shown around as your wife without having time to settle in.’

‘My dear, I won’t drag you around to show you off.’

‘But you have places to be, things to do. I could guess at the kind of life you had before I agreed to marry you. It’s fine.’

‘We’re both marrying someone. We’ll both adjust our ways of life. We’ll work something out. And that can be an additional location during our trip.’

‘No, it’s fine. All the more reason for us to plan another holiday next year’, Esther smirked.

‘If you want it so.’

‘I do’, she responded, lifting her chin in defiance.

Babington nodded.

‘Alright, I’ll send the letters first thing tomorrow morning’, he agreed. He took a piece of paper to write the locations down and a pen. Now that his attention was off of her, she found it easier to think anew and collect her thoughts.

‘I’m not used to people liking me. Or trusting people’, Esther admitted.

He already knew she’d been taught to mistrust everyone for over a decade, it was impossible for him not to know. But he hadn’t considered coupling that knowledge to her interactions with his mother. She was only just coming around to letting him, Anne, Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe in, and she felt uneasy trusting them, or having people support and like her. He hadn’t even expected her to warm up to him, his sister and young ladies at the pace she did. She had really conquered herself.

But of course there was a difference between them and his mother. They were all vocally supportive, willing to trust, open and loving. His mother was more guarded and reserved, as was her right to be. She didn’t know Esther, and had no reason to love her. She wanted to ascertain herself that the person being let into the family by him had the best intentions.

He was certain his mother did not dislike Esther. She had been pleasant and interested in learning about her, and did not appear to dislike anything she learned. But she had not expressed the same willingness to form a relationship and to trust her like the other people Esther had connected with the past few months.

They were both more reserved by nature, and when not given a reason to trust, they didn’t do so immediately.

‘She’ll come to love you. She just doesn’t know you yet. She was polite and friendly, was she not?’

‘I’m not saying she wasn’t’, Esther said defensively.

‘You impressed her, you know? With the amount of work you did for the wedding. She told you so herself, and although she loves us she doesn’t dish out compliments easily. And you’re honest, which she also likes. Crowe was treated with the same politeness but it was a lot colder, yesterday. He doesn’t know how to be polite without his decorum coming off as performative and mocking. And the scene of before? With my mother being worried about my sister’s health and him shrugging it off? He may very well be right, she’s young and healthy, but to not take health concerns seriously shows a lack of care for her that a mother won’t forget.’

Esther smirked and Babington considered his comment successful.

‘In that case I can only underline the importance of returning on time so I can spend some time with her’, Esther decided.

‘Sounds like a good idea.’

Esther and Babington both stood and migrated back towards the sofas. Esther sat down on the rug in front of the now asleep kittens.

‘We’ll be hosting a dinner party for Anne’s birthday. Your whole party is welcome of course. We had been planning on asking you but then Anne came in with the kittens.’

‘This week?’ Esther asked.

‘Yes, Friday. The day after you have your final fitting with your aunt and my mom.’

‘And Charlotte, Georgiana and Anne probably. For some reason everyone is particularly excited about the silly dress.’

‘Is it a silly dress?’

‘Well no, but making fuss about a dress is silly.’

‘What does it look like?’

‘You’ll just have to wait and be patient, _my dear’_ , she drawled.

‘Impatiently waiting still counts as waiting.’

‘She merely rolled her eyes.

‘Is it going to be a big party?’

‘Well, it’s a bit significant to her. It isn’t twenty-one but she’s now officially fully done with studying and will become a fully fledged member of society all year through, so it is deserving of a small dinner party. No more than twenty people, my family not included.’

Esther nodded.

‘It’ll be one of the last things we’ll be doing here then.’

‘Is it?’

She looked up at him, her light brown eyes so enchanting he could not help but sink down to his knees next to her.

‘It’s August. We marry in less than two weeks. I need to go back.’

‘I’ll be sorry to see you leave.’

‘Already so attached to me? My my, Lord Babington.’

He shook his head with a smile.

‘I hope it’ll be the final time you’ll be away from me for so long.’

‘Weren’t you the one saying distance makes the heart grow fonder?’ Esther teased.

‘Any fonder and I won’t be able to let you go again’, he smiled as he took her hand in hers, inching closer.

Esther drew back.

‘Really can’t help yourself, do you?’ she smirked. Pushing against his chest with her right hand.

‘So greedy’, she chastised as she let her ringed hand slide down his face, the gem side to his cheek. She did not yet know the full meaning of his diluted pupils and slackened jaw, or the tremble in his legs. But she knew it was a dangerous expression. It made her feel powerful and a little bit afraid, so she only smiled and petted his cheek before quickly turning towards the kittens and stroking them.

‘That’s because my future wife is altogether too tempting.’

Esther laughed, startling one kitten into waking.

‘I thought you gentlemen reputed yourself on your restraint and good manners. I even heard people claiming that was the indicator of noble birth?’

‘Well, if you have a delicious cake standing in your house you won’t let it sit untouched either, will you?’ he smiled.

‘But I am not in your house yet _, Lord Babington_ , I’m still part of my aunt’s household. How will I explain another spot if you cannot control yourself? You are risking my reputation.’

Lord Babington turned slightly pink in the cheeks, but scooted closer anyways.

‘I apologize.’

‘For what, leaving your brand on me? Want to claim me for all of the world to see, is that it?’ she enquired, voice cold but eyes teasing.

A vision of Esther with a purple bruised neck walking through Italy with him immediately formed into his mind. He imagined the bruise peeking out from underneath the curls that were usually laying against the side of her neck when the wind blew. He imagined creating them, imagined her making those delightful noises again as he did it.

Damn her for putting the visual in his head.

He was lost for words, licking his lips as he stared at her. Now she was doing it deliberately. She saw how it affected him, and she delighted in making him desperate.

‘Just one kiss?’

‘Fine. One goodbye kiss’, she decided before pressing her lips against his. He almost immediately moaned into the kiss, and it sent a heat straight through Esther. But she still held the control, and left him wanting when she rose.

He so wished to call out to her, to give teasing remarks laying right at the tip of his tongue. But Esther was not like him. What excited him could scare her.

‘When do you leave?’

‘Saturday morning.’

They would be married the next Friday. Even he admitted to getting nervous tingles thinking about it. He was excited, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the smallest bit afraid. Unlike Esther, there was no way for him to prepare. It was just a life-changing event charging at him at breakneck speed and there was nothing to do but wait for it to hit him and see how it would wreck and rebuild the life he had built for himself.

‘Then the party is to be our last meeting before the wedding?’

Esther nodded, wringing her hands.

‘Or perhaps I might see you off.’

‘Perhaps’, Esther said, but couldn’t help smile.

‘Would you like that?’

‘I wouldn’t be averse to it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) The Kingdom of Lombardo-Venetia is situated right in the North of modern Italy and contains the cities Milan and Venice.
> 
> 2) Travel journals were very much the rage between the 17th - 19th century. There was a big literary market for them.
> 
> 3) Grand Tours were very popular and considered a "final polish" for wealthy gentlemen. It was popular before and after the Napoleonic Wars. I was fully intending on writing about some fun stories of Babington about his grand tour but he wouldn't have been able to make one during the war. I guess Babington is about thirty. Austen wrote Sanditon in 1817 but it probably takes place in 1816, so that's how I calculated Babington's age during the brief pause during the war. 
> 
> 4) The sugar boycot is literally so cool. Now more than ever we are encouraged to "put our money where our mouth is" and shop sustainably, environmentally friendly, and support brands paying good wages to their workers and well... this is a cool example of people doing it way back in the regency era. 
> 
> 5) Travelling to battlefields isn’t just a modern holiday idea. Indeed many Britons travelled to Waterloo from the months following the battle. Corpses are usually removed from battlefields, leaving them to rot is rare and frowned upon. But well, there was always the odd limb and so on. Even more gross is that trinkets were sold as souvenirs, these were things found on the battlefields like bullets, but also clothing pieces and items of French soldiers that the Brits brought home to show off the triumph over France. Actually, it became such a mass holiday destination that they installed lookout places over the battlefield and laid down wooden paths so people didn’t have to trudge through the mud. 
> 
> 6) I tried calculating the nautical miles and the speed of 19th century boats but it is a very rough estimate
> 
> 7) Birthdays weren't a big thing in the Regency era. The birthday of the king and queen was of course a grand affair, and they were usually on different dates than their actual birthdays, basically it was just an excuse for a party (f.e. Queen Charlotte threw birthday parties coinciding with the start of the social season while her birthday was months later. Same for George. Actually, the reason why Queen Elizabeth II still holds the Trouping the Colour. It's the monarch's official holiday, even though it isn't her actual birthday.). The lower one goes on the social ladder, the less important a birthday became. Anne's quite wealthy so she would hold a dinner party. Babington reasons she deserves to celebrate due to her ending her school years and become more active in society, signalling that even for them birthdays aren't usually that special. 18 Is also no special age in the Regency era. The age of majority for both men and women was 21. The most notable benefit to becoming 21 is being able to marry without your families consent. So 21 would be a bigger cause for celebration. Of course, many wealthy ladies were already married by that time, but this just goes to show that 21 wasn't considered "old". The average marriage age for a woman was between 23-27.


	18. There's a last for everything

There’s a last time for everything. There always is.

And those last times either definitely feel like last times, or don’t feel final at all.

She didn’t feel the importance and the finality of her last conversations with her parents.

Or the last day she was devoted to Edward.

Or the last day she was a single unattached woman.

Every single one of those changes had felt as a surprise, and the jarring finality compared to those final moments had etched them into her memory. She knew that if she went back to those days, her heart would remember the feelings she felt those days just as sharp as she did that exact day. She had turned her memories over time and time again, looking for a finality in those days that was simply absent.

Right now though, she felt the finality of it all most keenly.

The final invitation she’d sent, the final things she arranged, the final time she wore a certain dress as a single lady. Every moment felt historical.

And the one now definitely did.

She’d worn beautiful dresses before. But knowing that this was _the_ last dress she would ever wear as a single woman, and the first dress she’d wear as a wife, did something to her. She needed the dress to be perfect. Worthy of the historical turning point in her life. Worthy of it being both a final point and a starting point, Esther Denham the eternal spinster and Lady Esther Babington a high society wife.

‘Are you trying to crawl into it through the sleeve? At this rate I’ll turn to ash before you come out’, Lady Denham huffed.

Esther ignored her, staring at her reflection. She’d been wearing lighter colours the past couple of weeks, finally breaking with the black and red shades that had signified her mourning, her unhappiness and her relationship with Edward, but that didn’t mean she was used to seeing herself in a cream shade.

She looked… So innocent and normal. And refined. Her fingertips traced the shiny pieces of organza running up towards her shoulders from her high waistband. The Chantilly chemisette underneath was small but added the smallest bit of texture around her cleavage. The same Chantilly as the pieces flowing around her wrists for added flare. It was tamer than most of her dresses. It wasn’t as structured, provoking or dark. The softness and vulnerability of it all made her hesitant to step out.

‘Is everything all right?’ Charlotte asked. Judging by her voice she was right behind the curtain separating Esther from the showroom.

‘Yes… Perfect’, Esther breathed, her voice unsteady.

Charlotte’s head peeped through the curtain.

‘Oh, it really is beautiful’, Charlotte smiled.

Esther nodded softly.

‘Don’t you?’

‘I do. I asked for this. Every part of it.’

Charlotte nodded.

‘It looks awfully domestic’, Esther quipped, unable to talk about it seriously.

‘Do you mind?’

‘No, but it’s not what I usually wear.’

‘Well, it kind of _is_ a special occasions dress’, Charlotte smiled.

Esther nodded.

‘Come, before Lady Denham wrings the curtains off herself’, Charlotte joked before disappearing again.

Esther threw a final glance in the mirror and walked out.

All were seated. Lady Denham, Charlotte, Georgiana, Anne and Lady Babington, all looking at the dress instead of her. Esther let out an unsteady breath.

Her family, the friends she had recently acquired, and her new family. Just two months ago she believed she was entirely alone, except for Edward. He’d told her it was them against the world, and that no one would love her. And since the moment he left, a dozen people had rushed in to take his place. She did not feel bitterness for her past loneliness, instead her heart felt full with warmth for the people who were actually part of her circle now.

‘Could you turn around, dear?’ Lady Babington asked.

Esther softly turned around and back again.

‘Sensible and beautiful. It has a very distinct innocent bridal look, yet with the right sashes and alterations wouldn’t look bad on other special occasions. Modern silhouette, simple’, Lady Babington nodded appreciatively.

Esther didn’t know whether she liked having the woman approve of her taste, or whether she felt awkward by her sober talk.

‘Oh mama, what would it even matter if there were more adornments or a train or a deep cleavage? It is a special day, her dress can be as simple or as extravagant as she likes. It’s beautiful Esther. It already was but since the silhouette is indeed quite simple it’s a good thing they cinched it in around the waist and took some more fabric out in the skirt’, Anne declared.

Georgiana nodded approvingly, although she found the colour rather bland on the redhead, while Charlotte found the softness endearing.

Lady Denham had been shooting daggers at Lady Babington ever since she complimented Esther’s choice of a modern silhouette and simple style, given that she still clung onto the ornate older style she had always admired but had never been able to afford in her youth. It felt like a critique of her own clothing style. Lady Denham though, knew when someone was above her in rank, and so she made no remark that Lady Babington’s modern empire waist and big hat loaded with golden feathers made her look like an expensive candle stick.

‘Yes yes, very becoming’, agreed Lady Denham.

‘Well then, so this is it hm? Now are you wearing your shoes?’ Lady Denham asked, deciding everyone had had enough time to compliment Esther.

Esther nodded, lifting her dress ever so slightly and shoving her foot out from underneath. It was made of the same shimmering fabric as her dress with a white bow in the middle.

‘Good. They’ll probably be stained green around the edges before the breakfast is over but oh well, they’re meant for single wear anyways’, Lady Denham sighed theatrically as if she was already mentally saying goodbye to her money. But instead she delighted in the frivolity of the slippers, if only because they were decidedly not practical or sensible unlike the dress.

‘Green?’ Lady Babington asked.

‘We’ll be holding the wedding breakfast outside if the weather allows it. Nothing better than some final fresh sea air and dining among nice greenery. They’ll be stuck in a coach all day afterwards, they could use some outside air until then. Don’t you agree? And I daresay that dress will have a nice shine in the sunlight’, Lady Denham declared.

‘How unconvential’, Lady Babington smiled politely.

‘But then I’ve never been to a seaside town wedding before. Where did it lay again?’ Lady Babington asked.

Lady Denham quickly answered.

‘Yes, I suppose their travel will be rather long. I’d say a hat doesn’t really suit a wedding dress so she risks catching rather much sunlight. But then she is going to the Mediterranean on her honeymoon so avoiding sunshine was already impossible’, Lady Babington reasoned.

Esther sighed and crossed her arms.

Why were they even bickering as if she wasn’t here?

‘Are you going to wear your hair like that?’ Anne asked, picking up on Esther’s annoyance.

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘Is there something you’ll be putting in your hair for decoration?’ Lady Babington asked, coming back to business again in a helpful manner.

‘I have a veil’, Esther replied.

‘A short or a long one?’

‘Long.’

‘Is it supposed to only be in the back or more to the front?’ Lady Babington continued, trying to get an idea of the look.

‘I could wear it both ways but it isn’t adorned on the sides, so I was planning on wearing it in the back only, to cover my updo.’

‘You won’t wear it with a hat?’ the lady wondered.

Lady Denham felt insulted that Lady Babington thought Esther would go to her wedding with a stupid hat or a bald head with only a veil. She had better options for head coverings.

‘She’ll wear my tiara’, Lady Denham announced. ‘It’s an heirloom.’

It wasn’t an heirloom of Esther’s family or the Brereton family, but Lady Denham wasn’t one to get caught up in the particulars. Her niece would look like a proper part of the nobility and she would look wealthy and worthy of a marriage to a lord.

Esther could just prevent her mouth from dropping open and only smiled at Lady Denham.

‘Oh, yes, that would look lovely. A tiara and a veil and some pieces of your lovely red hair uncovered. Yes. I agree, you shouldn’t cover your entire head with hair like yours’, Lady Babington smiled.

‘Alright, then we’re done here, ey?’ Lady Denham asked without asking.

‘You can go change girl, I’ll go pay’, Lady Denham decided as she stood.

Esther was lead away to be relieved from her dress and be put back into the one she was wearing.

‘Esther, dear?’ Lady Babington asked on the other side of the curtain as Esther was put back into her purple dress.

‘Yes?’

‘Could I have a moment?’

The seamstress finished doing Esther’s buttons and excused herself. Esther drew the curtain open.

‘I wish to give you something as well for your wedding day’, the woman announced, retrieving a circle shaped box.

‘Oh, Lady Babington. There was no need.’

‘You’re as much her bride as ours. It is only fitting. A lady needs a jewellery collection’, Lady Babington smiled.

Esther thanked her again and the lady immediately left.

Esther remained behind the curtain, looking at the red leather box in her hands, the jewellery brand’s name written in gold on top. It was a small parure, Esther realized with shock. She’d never had one before.

She clicked it open and lifted the lid.

A pearl necklace with two strand circled lay around the edge of the box on a soft pillow of fabric. Two pearl necklaces with a moonstone in the middle formed the second layer, and then right in the middle lay a brooch, pearl earrings and a golden moonstone and pearl comb. It was simply stunning.

And expensive too, probably. There had been more money invested in her the past three weeks than all the rest of her life, and if she was being honest she was just as amazed by the gift as it made her uncomfortable.

She’d had to scrape money together for years, and now it was spent so carelessly. Edward had always indulged, but she had never. She sometimes even wore her mother’s clothes. And almost all of her jewellery was from her mother.

 _Babington gives you pretty rings and the most expensive ridiculous honeymoon on earth, his mother loads you with jewels, all for simply existing. You’ve done nothing to earn this. You spent the majority of your acquaintance giving him the cold shoulder, you should be ashamed of basking in such undeserved luxury_ , a dark voice whispered in her ear.

She clasped the box shot and left the shop. They all had tea and sweets afterwards, and made a fun afternoon of it as Anne told them about the guests she’d invited for the dinner party that Friday.

But the nagging voice didn’t leave Esther, teatime had merely been a temporary distraction. And so she excused herself to go on a walk later that day.

She decided she’d wear the earrings on her wedding day, but until then, until she would take the Babington name, she wouldn’t look at the set gifted to her by Lady Babington.

She twisted the ring on her index finger. The strip of skin underneath it was already a different shade than the rest of her finger.

It was a continuous struggle, the past few weeks, to accept all that was coming towards her. She had to admit that although she sometimes feared the unknown, like what her social life and settled down life with Babington would look like, there was nothing she did not like in her future. But perhaps it would have been better had there been a downside, or a bad thing coming her way. She was familiar with that. She’d struggled with leaky roofs and tight budgets, family neglecting her, being lonely. That was normal. That was what she was used to. And that was what she had always believed she deserved. She’d been impatient for her aunt to die, she’d been cold to everyone she ever met, she’d worshipped and helped a worthless egotistical dandy, she’d been cruel and competitive, she’d been greedy and she’d lusted outside of marriage. She was a sinner, and she’d been told by Edward she was just as bad as him for years.

Getting all this love and luxury now, simply because of saying “yes” once, still felt wrong sometimes. There were better days, where she was too busy planning and going places and being happy that she had no time to feel conflicted. But the weight of guilt always caught up with her.

_‘Love is no transaction, Esther. You don’t need to give or prove anything to earn someone’s love. And I wish you to have it, as long as you wish to have it.’_

Back when he’d first told her those words, she hadn’t understood how someone could give love so freely without expecting anything in return. Now she did, and it had almost become impossible to stop caring for the people that had walked into her life. And although she felt easier with giving than receiving, she was finally easing into accepting love and support from her friends and Babington.

It was only those material tokens given in the name of love that made her feel awkward now.

 _But I shouldn’t, should I?_ She wondered.

Babington had given her the ring to show his love and devotion, and since then she had tried to be the best version of herself for him. And had in turn tried giving him the love he deserved, even though she could not give any material tokens of love.

And she had put many hours of labour into the wedding preparations, and had done everything within her power to be a good fiancée to him and future sister-in-law to Anne. Besides, Lady Babington was right, it would reflect badly on the family if Esther didn’t look like she fit in. Men’s fashion was more limited than female fashion. Through her accessories and clothes she represented his wealth and station. And as his wife, she deserved – and was supposed to – be taken care of by his family and provided with everything she needed.

Perhaps she would grow used to it. Just like she had grown used to being engaged and having friends.

A girl in a red coat walked out of the shop right in front of her. Esther, who was looking at her ring with fondness, remembering Babington’s lips against her hand, didn’t notice and bumped right into her.

Their previous encounter, when she’d been cast out of Lady Denham’s home, had felt like a last time. But it turned out it hadn’t been.

Fate had planned a final meeting between Esther and who she had believed to be her nemesis in her pre-married days. Now Esther was engaged and secure, and all enmity and schemes had come to an end.

It was the end of an era.

‘Oh, pardon me! Oh.’

‘It’s fi- oh. You.’

All previous thoughts plopped like soap bubbles as a chill ran over her arms. Clara shifted uncomfortably.

After gawking at her like a fish held under shot, Clara nodded.

‘How are you doing?’

‘Not that you deserve to know but fine, no thanks to you.’

She didn’t ask how Clara was doing. Frankly, she didn’t give a damn.

Clara looked at the ground. Her white gloves that had been a perfect white while she was with Lady Denham, were now a good deal dirtier. She was probably trying to wash them herself.

‘I wasn’t aware you were in London’, Clara tried.

‘I’m arranging things for my marriage.’

‘I heard. Congratulations. Lord Babington is a good choice.’

‘Yes, you were always quite invested in who I wanted to marry’, Esther snapped.

‘I was concerned for you’, Clara protested.

‘How kind. Was it concern for me that made you sleep with Edward even though you had already guessed my affections? Was it concern that made you tell me in explicit detail just what the two of you had done? Just admit you were just trying to get him yourself.’

‘They’re not mutually exclusive’, Clara pouted.

Esther rolled her eyes at Clara’s little pitiful performance. She was so used to her acts. She barely cared to listen. She was seriously considering saying goodbye and leaving.

‘The both of you never saw it for what it was, the inheritance business. You both saw it as a competition. You two always tried to get me out of Lady Denham’s graces but really, you were just playing along with her game. She always dangled the inheritance above us, making us jump and dance like trained monkeys in an attempt to be rewarded. We should have worked together to all gain a part of it. The chances of Edward getting it, as the male heir, had always been the biggest. Especially you and I should have worked together to ensure we’d get a part in our own right. But instead Edward wanted everything for himself, and you wanted Edward for yourself. You called me a harlot and a snake, but ask yourself this: when did I try to make you two fall out of her graces?’

Esther rolled her eyes but decided to search her memory. Surely there had to be one… But there wasn’t. When Edward had tried taking her, she hadn’t told Lady Denham. When she’d caught Edward and Esther being close, she hadn’t told Lady Denham.

‘You insinuated I was in love with Edward.’

‘I made a joke about it. So you would hear from someone else that it was stupid to believe that would ever happen. Esther, Edward is a manipulative greedy rascal who only cares for himself. That’s not a good man to marry. Lady Denham could match you up with any kind of man, you didn’t have to settle for someone like him. I did. I won’t get many wealthy men offering me marriage. I would have to seduce him to get money from him, be it through marriage or through a child. It backfired. Bad choice, bad consequences. I didn’t protest. I didn’t try dragging you down with us either.’

‘You told her about Lord Babington.’

‘Because you were being stupid. You were so blinded by Edward you were refusing a perfectly good offer from a perfectly good man. I knew Lady Denham would push you towards him when I couldn’t. And she did. Back at the ball the first night they were in town, I saw the two of you dancing. It was like always, eligible bachelors presented themselves to you, you gave them an eyeroll and the bare minimum of conversation already convinced you wouldn’t like them but still he didn’t give up. And he was wealthy and a good dancer, and not too bad looking. So why not? And perhaps if you spent some time with him, you would get to know other men except for Edward and realize that Edward really wasn’t all that. Of course, it would also help that if you were married, aunt would be less inclined to give her money to you.’

‘Certain the last reason wasn’t your only motivation?’ Esther asked icily. Although she had to admit she was growing intrigued.

‘Esther I have no money, no title, and I have too many siblings. My parents can’t take care of us, that’s why I was with an uncle. And he was awful to me. I had nowhere to go. Lady Denham, despite her grumpiness and horrible morals and snide remarks was the best thing that ever happened to me. And some money would finally allow me a safe space to exist. Can you blame me?’

‘I can blame your tactics. You still burned her will.’

‘Really though, nobody benefitted from her will. You would rather have the pigs have it than any of us? Without it, we could all be happy. We could all get away from Sanditon and start our lives.’

‘But you did, didn’t you? You’re here. Found another arrogant fool to spin around your fingers.’

Clara paled.

‘You know?’

‘I know about Mr. Crowe, yes. Tall curly haired dandies appear to be your type.’

‘I didn’t ask him for help. I didn’t even approach him. I was waiting for the post coach and instead he came to me, offering me friendship. We started talking on our way to London. He saved me from having to return to my uncle.’

Finally, partially because she was in a good place herself, and was finally coming to terms with the strange conclusion that Clara might not have been the demon she believed her to be, the tenseness in her shoulder fell away.

She did not like Clara by any means, but she could recognize that Clara had been just as desperate as Esther to be free, if not more, and had faced even bleaker prospects than Esther.

But then she thought back of Anne. Anne, asking her dozens of questions about first kisses and crying because of Mr. Crowe, Anne who had promised herself to Mr. Crowe. And she became determined to ensure Anne’s happiness.

‘And will you be as desperate as to ensure yourself of his eternal support?’ Esther asked.

‘What? No. We’re sleeping on separate levels of his house even. But why do you care?’ Clara asked under her breath, looking around to ensure no passer-by’s were listening in.

Esther bit her lip.

‘Oh. The girl’, Clara decided.

‘His sister, isn’t she?’ Clara asked.

‘Anne’, Esther said.

‘I thought he’d wanted… that. That that was why he decided to be nice to me. In the coach we first talked about Sanditon and how horrible we found the town. Then he started bemoaning how boring Babington had become since he’d fallen in love and then we talked about all kinds of things, including ourselves. And I was already amazed he didn’t expect me to drop on my knees in the carriage. But then it became clear that to him I was a distraction. He doesn’t like being alone.’

‘You know about Anne?’

‘I do. As I said, he doesn’t like being alone. He goes to clubs or to dinner parties or balls. At home he’s usually up until he’s either drunk or exhausted or both. During the year he usually has a lot to do, now he doesn’t.’

‘And you’re a distraction from that boredom?’ Esther asked sharply.

Clara shrugged. ‘But he won’t be doing the drinking anymore. It’s a relief, to be honest, he could be a lot to handle. Fun, but a lot. But compared to Lady Denham, he’s the best of company.’

‘The best of company?’ Esther huffed a laugh. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Why? Because he doesn’t hide that he isn’t fond of you?’

That confirmed Esther’s suspicion.

‘Yes’, Esther answered slowly.

‘Don’t take it personally. You were stiff and unappreciative of his humour when he met you and then you turned his drinking buddy into someone who couldn’t wait to marry and be domestic. Crowe’s afraid of losing his best friend to a woman who didn’t show a lot of appreciation for his best friend or for Crowe himself. He’ll come around once he sees the two of you happy together. Although he will hold a grudge for you taking away time with his best friend.’

‘I didn’t take it. Babington wanted to stop going out the way he did’, Esther rebuffed.

She stunned herself with the remark, and had to recover for a couple of seconds. She hadn’t just taken blame, hadn’t even felt guilty for stealing away Crowe’s friend. Babington had wanted to marry her and she had often teased him about him wanting to run back to his friends, but he had told her time after time he wanted to spend time with her and be a husband.

Clara smiled.

‘I’m glad for you, you deserve someone who wants to give you the time of day.’

Esther didn’t even know what to say. Should she thank her? Should she tell her she did too? Should she be cool?

‘If you’re not planning on being together with Crowe, what are you planning to do? He’ll likely marry her. He won’t be able to keep you then.’

‘I know’, Clara responded, her chin dipping low so she could hide her face.

‘I’m going to do my best to attract one of his single friends, as whatever. As long as I get a roof over my head I’ll be happy.’

‘As whatever? You mean what? Being a _kept_ woman?’ Esther whispered full of disbelief.

‘It’s not like I have something valuable to offer. I never had the luxuries you had, Esther. Not even virginity. That was stolen from me too.’

She had nothing to lose crawling on top of Edward, Esther realized. She had no money, no family, and not even herself or her reputation going for her.

‘I’m sure you’ll be able to charm one of them, be it with your wit or beauty’, Esther remarked.

‘I sure hope so’, Clara responded, fidgeting with her purse.

‘I’m sorry for hurting you in the past, Esther. It was never my intention.’

Esther had wanted to see Clara hurt though. She’d been angry with her for getting a part of Edward she had never gotten and for being able to stay in Lady Denham’s graces. She’d feared Clara would be able to convince Lady Denham not to give them money and had been afraid Clara would rat her out. And she was envious too, envious of the privilege she had of being cared for by Lady Denham and basking in Edward’s attention while she had to run a household on a very tight budget.

She hadn’t been a good person. Being in bad circumstances made you selfish. Especially when the luck of another was tied to your best luck. And though she could not like Clara, she could pity her and understand her a bit more now. But Clara wasn’t Babington, she couldn’t and wouldn’t share her thoughts and she wouldn’t apologize for how she treated Clara in the past. She could not be vulnerable or open.

‘Well, it’s behind us now. The dice have been cast.’

‘I never wanted us to be enemies’, Clara sighed. ‘But indeed they have been cast.’

Clara looked away, staring at the movement in the streets for a couple of seconds before turning back towards Esther.

‘You can rest easy, by the way’, Clara noted.

‘What for?’

‘You kept the wedding low-key, letting the banns be read in his hometown and Sanditon. No one in London knows of it except for his circle. Edward hasn’t heard about it. He came to London too after the ball. Spent a lot of time in gin houses, sat at the gambling tables a lot as well. I keep tabs on him to ensure he isn’t scheming or anything. I don’t trust him. Last I heard he’d gone to Scotland with some of his friends. He won’t try and crash your wedding the way he did the ball.’

‘You heard about that as well?’

‘I did. Your fiancé was furious about his antics, apparently raged about it to Mr. Crowe for half an hour.’

‘He did?’

‘Well, Crowe can exaggerate’, Clara smirked. ‘Anyways, I thought you deserved to know.’

‘Thanks’, Esther said cautiously.

‘Is this Anne really serious about him by the way? I can’t help but ask’, Clara asked.

‘Why?’

‘He really cares for her, you know. But I don’t know why’, Clara admitted.

Esther didn’t dare to voice her opinion. Clara had used knowledge about Esther against her in the past. She didn’t want to offer anything she knew to Clara.

‘Why?’

‘They’re very different. He’s old, she’s young. He’s a nihilist and she sounds like a dreamer. He abhors decorum, and she’s the perfect accomplished little lady. He’s very involved in politics and she, what does she do? Read a lot of novels and encyclopaedia? If I remember well she’s even in a book club. You do know what that means don’t you? They read moral essays there. And they’re all about pure little women. He’s nothing like that. I fail to see how they could be compatible. I can barely even see why they fell for each other. They must find each other very attractive. It’s the only thing I can think of.’

Esther had the exact same thoughts. But she knew more. She knew despite all of the above, that Anne had been drawn to Crowe’s intelligence, honesty and humour.

‘Well, if they say they’re in love and they have been in love for a while, it doesn’t matter what differences we perceive. They decide, and if her family approves, it’ll happen.’

‘And do you want her to potentially be married and unhappy? And have your husband be sad due to her unhappiness? Or do you want your husband to fight with his best friend because his best friend is preying on his very young sister?’

Esther squared her shoulders.

She hated how Clara could read her. She just knew what Esther had wondered.

‘That’s our family. We’ll deal with it once the question is asked.’

‘Wouldn’t you rather want a Lord Babington for her than a Crowe?’

She did. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but think of Charlotte and Georgiana, who had both given their hearts to men who she believed to be not worth it. But Otis was working on himself and becoming better, and what Charlotte and Babington had told her about Sidney Parker spoke of a large change within him. He had been a reckless selfish youth who was now becoming a responsible man. And even her own Lord Babington had been a wild man unwilling to settle once.

‘It doesn’t matter who I want for her. Besides, why do you care?’

‘As I said before, my future depends on their union. Or any union Mr. Crowe enters.’

‘Well then, good luck with your little schemes of seduction, Lady Macbeth’, Esther said.

‘I’ll do my best. You know me, dear cousin, I always look out for myself.’

Clara gave her a small smile.

‘I’ll see you around. Have a nice wedding day.’

‘Thank you.’

They parted, bound by shared experience and shared anguish, but their forced interactions had come to an end. They met as competitors, and now left as not friends, but no enemies either.

Next up was a final meeting with another victim of Tom Parker’s way of running Sanditon: James Stringer. Unlike Clara whose life after Sanditon was significantly darker than her time spent there, Stringer’s life, despite his desire to stay in Sanditon and be miserable, found himself ever so slowly emerging from his misery.

‘I’m awfully sorry to see you ladies go’, admitted Mr. Stringer. They sat in a tea shop somewhere between the more expensive regions and the cheaper neighbourhoods of London. Their chaperone was gazing through the window in boredom.

‘It’s fine, you can say you’ll miss Charlotte most of all’, smirked Georgiana.

‘Georgiana’, hissed Charlotte in embarrassment as Mr. Stringer looked away awkwardly.

‘What? There’s nothing wrong with it. You two have been friends since long before we ever met him, Charlotte’, Georgiana protested.

‘Let’s not be overly dramatic. We’ll all be back here within a couple of months’, Esther declared as she rolled her eyes.

‘But we’ve never really been apart for long since meeting, it is important to say goodbye’, Charlotte smiled.

Georgiana nodded quietly.

‘I can’t believe I’ll have to live with Mrs. Griffiths and those godawful twins again without being able to see you for months!’ Georgiana protested with a pout.

‘Miss Heywood has plenty of reason and right to go home though. I have never been away from home. I’m sure I would’ve missed my pa, and my mum back when she was alive… when they were alive’, Mr. Stringer said.

Charlotte bit her lip and nodded.

‘I miss my parents, and the others. The little ones grow so fast. I wouldn’t want them to forget about me. I have so much to catch up with, and I will be able to tell them so much. And you can always write, Georgie, I’ll always answer your letters as soon as I get them.’

‘Then I’ll try not to send you too much letters, so you’ll have enough time to answer hers’, Esther smirked.

Mr. Stringer smiled softly, looking back at his tea cup. As a man, he wouldn’t be able to send Charlotte any letters. It pained him to say goodbye to her. He’d already said goodbye to his father, and his friends in Sanditon most of whom were illiterate, and now he lost her too and was alone in the big city. She had always managed to fill him with hope, he wondered whether he could muster the strength for it without her.

But then she turned towards him, and he could feel her eyes on him.

‘But we will be reunited, all of us. And just imagine how much we’ll have to tell each other and how lively our conversations will be after all of our new experiences’, Charlotte said as she smiled at Mr. Stringer.

‘By the time I return you’ll have had the most amazing honeymoon to all these epic foreign locations, Esther. And without a doubt you will have one or two stories about how you gave Mrs. Griffiths a heart attack. And you, you’ll be marvellous with your extra months of training, I have no doubt. You will no longer be his worst pupil ever. You’re such a hard worker. You may have started with less, but you’ll have caught up by then’, Charlotte ended her sentence smiling at Mr. Stringer.

‘Your faith in me is flattering, Miss. You’re too kind.’

‘I like to think I’m a good judge of people and situations’, she said, her smile faltering. ‘I’m not always right, but I hope I am now. I want to be right. You deserve it, Mr. Stringer’, Charlotte declared, her lips trembling but managing to keep their smile.

‘I’ll make sure to have a portfolio full of designs to show you when you return’, he promised.

Charlotte only smiled and grew silent again.

‘I’ve decided I don’t like flower tea’, Georgiana complained to break the silence, throwing a contemptuous look at her cup of hibiscus tea.

Esther bit back a smile.

Georgiana demanded a cup of black tea. A servant nodded and came back with the tea and hot water, mixing it in front of them.

‘Here you go, Miss’, the servant nodded, presenting the cup.

‘It’s as pale as ghost. You do know it has to be stronger than that, right? This is just hot leaf juice.’

The servant reddened. Of course, the higher up in station, the paler the tea usually was because people believed wealthy ladies were too dainty to handle strong tea. A silly notion of course, Esther thoroughly enjoyed strong tea and spicy food, and she was not the only one clearly.

‘Yes, that’s more like it, thank you’, Georgiana said as she waved the servant away.

Life demands to be lived, no matter how much you want it to stop. And no matter how much you wish to change your way of life to show your deceased loved ones how devoted you are to them even after death, the heart wants what it wants. And James’ heart could not change. His was the mind of a creator, things sprung to life in his head, not in his hands, although they certainly were capable hands. And to supress the urge to design, felt just as wrong as designing things even when his father asked him not to.

Mr. Stringer blushed at the comfort with which Georgiana made demands, her station allowed her to be rude, and her upbringing had made her upfront, neither of which he was.

‘So you are leaving on Saturday?’ he asked.

‘We are’, Esther answered. ‘Why, interesting in waving us off?’

‘It would hardly be appropriate, Miss Denham. And I’ve got to work, unfortunately.’

Charlotte nodded silently.

‘You’ll be missed’, she admitted softly.

Esther could see the struggle to cope with heartache in him, just like she did in Charlotte. But she could also see the resolve in both to not let it be the end of them. There was a sheer determination in trying to move on and be productive.

‘Don’t be too busy missing me, Miss Heywood, focus on reconnecting with your siblings. You’ve spent long enough missing them. I’ll be right here when you return.’

Of course he would understand her need to be home. He would race home himself, if he had a home to return to, Esther thought to herself.

‘Right here in this tea shop?’ Georgiana teased.

‘Why of course, because even before Miss Heywood returns you’ll have without a doubt escaped the clutches of your Mrs. Griffiths and come to London because you could bear it no longer. And so we would both be sitting here, drinking tea and whiling away the days until Miss Heywood joined us.’

‘Hm, sounds like a much more delightful way to await Charlotte’s return than sitting in that dreary old sandy place.’

‘Mind your words, that’s my dear old hometown you’re speaking of’, James Stringer chastised.

Georgiana rolled her eyes.

‘It’s in England so the weather is dreary you can’t refute that. It’s an old place despite the new buildings _and_ it is sandy. You can’t argue, Mister.’

‘Good memories will make every place pleasant, bad memories make every place awful’, Esther drawled, looking away from the table.

‘To good memories everywhere then’, Charlotte said, raising her cup.

Georgiana and Mr. Stringer raised their cups as well, with Esther slowly joining in as well.

Sanditon would forever be a dark place to her.

They all smiled before taking another sip.

She had met James Stringer and his lowest, but this was not a man who was able to stay low. He was already healing, and would continue to heal. It didn’t feel as a goodbye. It was like seeing the first green sprout of a flower in February. It was the promise of seeing something greater and stronger in spring.

There was only a final goodbye left now, the goodbye that was as much a promise for a new beginning as it was the end of a present circumstance: the dinner at the Babingtons, and her final meeting with Lord Babington as her fiancé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this, it was meant to be a light chapter despite the heavy title. But then my grandfather's second wife passed away abruptly. I'm keeping the lightness for another time, right now I'm not in the mood for it. I could wait to post it until I was back in the mood again, but I just want this chapter gone. I'm sorry to constantly give these depressing updates, but it's my story and I'm too chatty for my own good. Consider this also my official announcement that my posting schedule will be infrequent henceforth.
> 
> So anyways, if you can and if it's safe: visit your families. Hug them, talk to them, tell them you love them, send them a text. In just a matter of hours things can go south and then there are no 'nexts' anymore. 
> 
> Take care, much love,   
> Lynn


	19. Let them eat cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I did not intend on taking a break for almost the entire summer. First I needed time, then I was on a (very isolated and distanced) holiday, then I had an exam... and all the while I did not feel in the mood to write happy things, and I very much wanted the final chapters of this story to feel light and unburdened.  
> (The first thing I wrote once I picked up the pen again was a chapter in which I killed a family member of a MC of another story, talking about being in a Mood™)
> 
> So I'm sorry for the delay. And I'm afraid to say I don't quite know when I'll manage to upload the final chapters since I kind of broke my laptop and will have to bring it to a store this week. Let's pray I'll just find a way to keep on uploading.

The party was the largest crowd of young women Esther had ever seen except for a ball. Not counting Esther herself, Charlotte, Georgiana and Anne, there were a total of seven other girls. The number would have been higher, had all Anne’s friends still been in London, but most had already gone to their country houses to escape the heat of the city.

They were exactly what young women in the prime of their youth were supposed to be: pretty; mild mannered; enthusiastic and cheerful. They found everything interesting and the kittens endearing, yet their manners weren’t overly affectionate to the point of ridicule. They made the same impression as Anne had made the first few minutes she had met her while Lord Babington was still present, before she started going off on intellectual tangents and deep reflection. Sweet accomplished innocent ladies raised and schooled to be perfect marriage candidates and nothing else.

They brought Anne all kinds of little gifts. A drawing of the friends together, bells to hang around the kittens. Then there was a necklace, a handkerchief with her favourite flower embroidered on it and homemade earrings with amber stones and tiny seashells. Esther had never seen such a display of friendship, yet it did not sting to see the girls be so affectionate with each other. Rather she had no doubt she, Georgiana, Anne and Charlotte could progress to be the same way, if she wanted to have that sort of connection, if she kept letting her newly acquired friends in.

Mr. Crowe and Lord Babington, together with two fashionably clad brothers of two of the ladies, kept to themselves on two opposing couches with wine glasses. Mr. Lennox and Sir Mallester laughed heartily and described a trip to the Scottish lakes, to which Babington and Crowe divulged some of their own stories of swimming, drowning and causing ruckus in and around the lake. From Scottish lake stories the topic went to water sports, which of course ended with the story of Mr. Crowe steering his boat into the river bank during the regatta in most amusing detail. The gentlemen laughed, and shared their own embarrassing stories, so there was no shame between the lot of them.

Neither Sir Mallester nor Mr. Lennox noticed the lighter shade of Mr. Crowe’s wine, who did wish his wine had not been lengthened for the amount of people and chipper chatter was making him quite tense. One glass more or a good couple of gulps from his flask would’ve loosened his shoulders and tongue and made him master of the room. Now he felt awkwardly attached to Babington, and quite self-aware. And it was not only because the subject of his attention had just turned eighteen. There was less than a decade between them for a sweet single month, before he again became over a decade older than her. He wondered when he had become such an old man. His twenties had flown by in the blink of an eye. In a year he would turn thirty.

The young women in the meantime talked about all kinds of little things that were commonly accepted as pleasant and innocent. Balls were discussed, plays and music performances were critiqued. A lot of attention went to holiday plans, especially Esther’s, and she felt quite hesitant and spoilt when she discussed them. However, since her natural reaction to nerves was to be cool and humorous, no one saw her surprise at receiving so much attention.

Of course, the beau monde of London suffered from a particular vice called superficiality, and so even the best of them could not discuss art, history and languages forever. Silly topics had to come up. For what was the Palazzo Reale of Genoa compared to the newest fashion?

The servants informed them that dinner was to be served and they all agreed to finish their glasses before going to the table. Esther listened with half an ear to some of the girls discussing the summer fashion and the coming winter trends. Apparently ermine and sable caps were out, although the furs were still good for muffs and lead was a wonderful colour to wear. As if this wasn’t ridiculous enough, in the particular circumstance a lady rode in a carriage a seal fur pelisse would be very _en vogue_. Esther had never heard Anne speak of such frivolous things before, but she appeared to be very absorbed in the fashion conversation as of now. All those Scottish selkie myths, perhaps the simple fishermen had just not understood fashion, Esther mused. Georgiana and Charlotte appeared to be equally disinterested and together they rose and departed for the dining room.

More of the guests started trickling out of the room, leaving only two figures in the end. Oblivious to the leaving guests, Mr. Crowe stood in front of the window, his mind begging him to immediately refill his glass and down it. A tiny grey tabby found Mr. Crowe near the window and turned around his ankles, its small grey tail stiff and straight as it was still small. He refused to give the fur ball attention in front of the visitors, he would not be known as soft.

‘Have you already given it a name?’ a soft happy voice asked from behind him.

‘Dionysus’, he answered, throwing her a sardonic smile.

‘Why but of course’, Anne smiled, having no qualms about picking up the little one even though she wore a fine lavender dress.

‘I hope you’ll give the little one as much love as you gave the bottle. But right now it looks as if you’re eschewing both’, she said, pushing her peachy cheek against the kitten’s face.

‘I am not. I will always flirt with temptation, dear’, he answered as he took the kitten to show he could give it attention and love. The cat looked up at him in confusion, seemingly not knowing what to expect of the owner. The owner had no answer ready, and rubbed a finger over its head.

‘Are you enjoying yourself?’

He threw her a frown and she smiled.

‘Give me low rumbling male voices over these banshee screeches every day. I can’t stand it. They’re too loud and happy.’

‘Mr. Crowe, you’re awfully rude. They cannot help their voices’, Anne scolded amusedly.

‘But they can help how much they talk and laugh.’

‘Oh hush, you grumpy gnome.’

‘Gnome!’

‘Yes well, you’re not much one for sunlight, always hiding in one of your dark hovels.’

‘Gnome, hovels, why the compliments are free today!’ Mr. Crowe cried as he put the cat down.

Everyone was already leaving the room and heading for the dining room.

‘I apologize sir, my tongue is too quick for my brain’, Anne apologized sweetly.

‘That’s not necessarily a bad thing’, Crowe said quietly.

‘Wh- I don’t understand. What. Oh you!’ she cried out.

Mr. Crowe delighted in her mortified expression as she stormed past him towards the dining room and refused to make eye contact with him.

Esther and Babington were oblivious to the oddly matched lovers who came in, one with pink cheeks the other with a grin. Sir Mallester had just asked them for their honeymoon plans.

‘Why I swear, I never heard of such a long honeymoon. It sounds delightful. I wish I would marry!’ cried a brown haired friend of Anne’s.

‘Have to find a man first’, another girl giggled.

‘Oh hush Sarah, one more season is all I need. I’m sure of it. I can simply feel it.’

Esther awkwardly looked at her plate as she heard all these comments. All these young girls were searching so hard for love and she who had run away from it, had almost gambled away all her shots, had bagged a lord. All these years of feeling unhappy, yet it turned out she was born under a lucky star. She’d denied others long enough that at the exact moment Babington stepped into Sanditon, she was falling out of love with Edward. Had she left Edward before, she never would have met Babington. The idea of not being with him now seemed awful.

Esther was ready to move away from the conversation and turned towards Mr. Crowe.

‘So I’ve heard you’ve taken on a cat, Mr. Crowe.’

‘So I have’, the man answered slowly.

‘But I’m afraid it’s in an unfashionable colour. It’s not exactly lead grey’, he declared dryly. To which the whole table laughed and one lady turned pink.

‘A dreadful mistake, honestly. You shall for sure be ostracized by London’s fashionable cat society’, Esther drawled.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to give it to the poor, they don’t seem to care much for fashion’, Mr. Crowe shot back.

‘Life is terribly unfair’, Esther shrugged.

As Anne’s friends blushed and cast down their eyes in embarrassment, Anne bit on her lip as her beloved made her friends feel awkward and self-aware.

‘My friend, you are wicked’, laughed Babington.

‘Your fiancée does not seem to agree on that.’

‘Bold of you to assume my being amused in any way lessens your wickedness.’

‘So you find wickedness amusing?’

‘In a conversational partner a wicked sense of humour is sometimes admired. Honesty, humour and bluntness always manage to win me over, however Mr. Crowe, you’d do well remembering what kind of man I chose to marry. Not to be rude, but I am glad with my choice. Conclude from that what you wish regarding how I look on your wickedness.’

Mr. Crowe choked on his soup but huffed a laugh.

‘Perhaps we may yet become very good friends, Miss Denham.’

‘Do give me some time with her before you corrupt her, my friend’, Babington laughed.

‘Even I know when to bow down to a challenge, she’ll break before she bends. I stand more chance of being un-corrupted.’

‘It’s always a good thing when a woman can influence a man. If a man influences a woman, it’s always for worse’, a girl said.

‘Poor dear, I do wonder what your father ever did to elicit such a statement’, Mr. Lennox grinned.

‘Oh, I did not mean! It is only – a … men and their drinking and gambling and dark thoughts, you know? Women know a great deal more about virtue and propriety’ the girl stammered.

‘Women are no pure angels by the grace of their sex’, Mr. Crowe said.

‘We would do well to stop placing them on pedestals like that. They are as mortal as everything else on this planet, and can be corrupted just as easily. The reason why you can all claim the moral high ground is because you are force fed books full of sermons, conduct books, are taught languages and other accomplishments, and are oftentimes denied access to a whole library full of books out of fear it would corrupt your minds. Nor do women get access to gin places, political arenas and other places where they might get corrupted. The only chance they get of being tempted is at balls and dinner gatherings but even there they are under constant supervision.’

The blonde girl had now effectively turned as white as a sheet, being no match against two learned men, nor was she used to going against men.

‘No matter the reason why women are generally more virtuous, her comment still stands. You admit to it. Men are tempted more frequently, and thus I cannot help but conclude they fall victim more often than women do. Therefor she is right when she points out that women exercise more positive control over men’, Anne decided.

Crowe and the other men shrugged, happily agreeing, although they were disappointed not to get more out of the topic.

After the adventurous soup course that had turned out to be a lot hotter and spicier than expected, conversation returned back to friendly chatter. When the day was over, Lord Babington lead the young three ladies back to their carriage, pressing a chaste kiss on Esther’s glove, and sent them off.

‘Well, I have to say I’ll miss London. My previous experience was absolutely horrendous but if London life generally exists of bow shooting, fun walks, painting and frolicking about drinking tea and eating sweets and going to evening entertainment in company such as the one I’ve enjoyed the past three weeks, I can’t wait to return next winter’, Georgiana declared.

‘The weeks have flown by’, Charlotte admitted with a smile. ‘I must say I wasn’t exactly in the mood to go or do anything a couple of weeks ago, but I found myself pleasantly surprised by how much fun I could still have, despite never waking up… well, happy. Thank you so much for taking us with you Esther, it has been so pleasant.’

Esther was both pained and relieved by Charlotte’s statement. She greatly valued her honesty, especially since she had been so closed off at the beginning of July. Esther was grateful she had managed to distract Charlotte a bit from the pain she was suffering, but she would be infinitely more grateful should the girl bounce back to the bright eyed light-hearted cheerful girl she had first met months ago. But if she was anything like Esther, that fresh glow and young optimism would never return, and she would only mend slowly through a lot of tender support

‘No need to thank me. I took the two of you along to ensure the trip would be pleasant for me, and you did not disappoint’, Esther answered with a smirk as she insulted her own character.

Georgiana rolled her eyes.

‘Just admit you love us.’

Esther lifted her eyebrows with a scowl. Georgiana only lifted hers in return, undaunted.

‘Fine’, she huffed.

The frowns turned into smiles and soon they were all laughing.

‘I’ll never regret Sanditon’, Charlotte sighed once they had caught their breath.

‘I learned so many new things. I organized a regatta! And I met the two of you. And even seduced two trips to London. Could a girl wish for more?’ Charlotte smiled.

‘I hope that was not in order of importance’, Georgiana teased. She got a crocheted pillow in her face for that comment.

‘The past months have been exceedingly weird. But if things keep getting better at the rate they are, we’ll all be glowing by Christmas’, Esther said, not knowing whether she was trying to give them hope or herself.

‘They’ll certainly get better for you, wedded bliss and all’, Georgiana teased.

‘Shut it. If it were up to me I’d stay engaged for a long time still.’

‘Why?’ Georgiana spluttered.

‘Because being engaged has suited me well. It’s a lot more fun than having to take care of a household and ruling a husband.’

‘He doesn’t strike me as particularly hard to rule. He has the temper of a Labrador’, Georgiana noted.

‘An engagement is like this intermediary state, between being a girl and a married woman, to prepare. It’s like a big event, the build-up is more exciting than the actual event’, Charlotte laughed.

‘Let’s hope that unlike an event, the after will be more fun than the before’, Esther joked.

‘Goodbye, Denham name’, she sighed theatrically as she got up to get ready for bed.

‘No one worth knowing shared that name anyway’, Charlotte said quietly.

Esther and Georgiana laughed heartily at that, and all went to bed with smiles on their faces.

Since their trunks had already been packed the previous day, there was naught to do but dress and have breakfast before leaving. The girls lingered in all rooms, tracing their fingers across windows and marble fireplaces as if they wanted to commit the place to memory through touch. As they were all gazing at the garden, sitting on the bench and staring at the figurative hedges as if they could burn the picture into their minds, Lord Babington was announced.

The girls remained behind in the garden, and Lady Denham stayed in the breakfast parlour with her tea to allow the couple some moments of privacy.

He had prepared speeches, but of course men in love are too full of emotion on moments such as these to speak eloquently. After some staring and awkwardly sitting down across each other, Esther rose again.

‘And you came’, she said.

‘So I did. I promised I would see you off, and I am a man of my word.’

‘I know you are. It’s what draws me to you.’

‘Only that?’

‘Well, a man can be anything as long as he’s a man of his word. He could promise to be handsome, promise to be sweet, promise to be good. And if he keeps his word, a woman needs never complain’, Esther smirked.

‘Well, now I prize that quality of mine all the more. It indeed looks to be most profitable.’

‘You know I have more reasons to love you’, Esther noted with a smile.

Babington pat on the sofa next to him, and she acquiesced his wordless demand.

‘As I have many reasons to love you, my dear. And soon I’ll be able to show you just how much I worship you.’

‘You did eat pure honey for breakfast again, didn’t you?’ she quipped.

He only laughed and lifted her hands, pressing a kiss to each, before pressing a kiss to her ring.

‘Whatever you believe dear. But I mean every word I say.’

Esther smiled, not knowing what to say anymore.

What was there to say, what words were adequate for such a goodbye?

‘I must admit, time has passed at such a speed, I can almost not believe we’ll be married by next Saturday’, Babington said.

‘But I am looking forward to it’, he added quickly.

Esther’s lips quirked upwards.

‘I do hope so.’

‘Are you not?’

‘Well I shall admit I am curious to find out what all the fuss is about, and all the secrecy in regards to married life. And, of course, I am very excited to see France and Italy.’

‘Such a practical woman’, Babington teased.

‘Esther, the coach is ready!’ cried Lady Denham from the other side of the door.

‘Yes, I’ll be there in a minute!’ Esther answered.

‘Exactly seven days. And then we won’t be parted for months, day through night’, Babington smiled.

‘I hope we don’t tire of each other’, Esther smirked.

‘We won’t, I’ve told you so before.’

‘We’ll see, won’t we?’ Esther laughed.

‘I know it isn’t exactly proper, but I wrote you something for each day we are parted. Don’t open it until you’re home and alone in your room.’

‘Lord Babington!’ Esther cried.

‘Why, now you’ve made me so curious I’m inclined to read them all right now.’

‘But you won’t.’

‘Oh you shouldn’t have tested me’, she cried as she tore the envelop he handed her a little.

His eyes grew wide, but she did not tear it further.

‘Consider this an act of self-control, but pray don’t dare predict my actions anymore. I believe I’m too much of a contrarian for that.’

‘Warning heeded’, he agreed as they both rose.

He laid his hand upon her cheek one last time, committing her face to memory as she had committed the room to hers an hour before.

‘Goodbye, my bride. And have a safe trip.’

He pressed a kiss to her lips, long and lingering, with soft sweetness.

Esther wrapped her arms around him for a minute, and tried to focus on how he smelt and felt.

‘You too, once you leave London.’

Babington nodded with a smile, walking over to the door and holding it open for her.

‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘I have not prepared any letters for you. And I suppose any I will write will arrive in London too late for you to read them. You’ll already have left for Sanditon yourself.’

Babington nodded.

‘It is the way it is, but it shall serve me as a good reminder of how the empty days of a bachelor feel. It will make our reunion all the sweeter to me’, he smiled.

‘You always manage to put a positive spin on everything, don’t you?’

‘I try’, he smiled as he walked through the outside door with her. All others had already entered the carriage.

They said goodbye properly then, her curtsying and him kissing her hand quickly, before he helped her get in.

‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Goodbye, John.’

The carriage rattled away across the cobblestones, and after being shook for a little over an hour, the roads softened, and they were lead across hills and through valleys. The fields had grown golden, some leaves already brown, and the corn had shot until the height of a carriage.

It was the height of summer, and so the end of the bloom. All fruits of spring and summer would soon be harvested. Over were the preparations.

Esther could not close her eyes. Everything felt new and old at once. She was laying her eyes to it for the last time as a maid, and would only see these views again as a wife.

And she would probably never share a carriage with only her aunt and her friends again. It made her more willing and pleasant company than she’d ever been.

As the burning sun gave way to a pink sky, and then night, before they could hear the waves through the windows, Esther mentally counted down.

Only six days left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on writing one more chapter to bridge the final week of Esther's bachelorhood, then four of the wedding day (one from Esther's pov, and then one for Charlotte, Georgiana and Anne, each setting up their challenges and desires for the year to come). Then I don't quite know. I plan on doing a chapter on the wedding night, and perhaps a few bits and pieces of their honeymoon, but I don't know if they fit in this fic or if I should immediately put them in a different fic. If anyone has an opinion, let me know :p
> 
> Also, I finally got around to reading Little Women and Good Wives. I'm so awful, I watched every adaptation but never got around to reading the book and I have to say... Babington in my opinion gives off such strong Professor Bhaer vibes and it is infinitely amusing to me that the actor playing Babington played Bhaer as well in one of my favorite Little Women adaptions (2017). 
> 
> In the meantime: I hope you all are safe and happy. My best wishes.  
> x


	20. Love Letters

In the end Esther had forgotten quite about the letters by the time she and her companions crawled out of the carriage.

They were stiff and exhausted from the long journey. So after seeing Georgiana and Charlotte off, Esther went straight to bed. It was only the next morning, once she put on her light pelisse to make a walk, that she remembered the letters. They felt heavy in her coat.

Heeding Babington’s warning, she walked away from the town, and away from the crowded beaches, until she was alone.

No one could be under any pretence that Esther loved her hometown. She’d been vocal about it plenty of times. Yet, knowing she was setting her eyes on these familiar shores for perhaps the final time, it became dearer to her.

Ugly as they were, with water torn between being blue, green and grey, jagged rocks, and seaweeds littering the beaches, they were hers.

Here she had spent almost two decades of her life. She had perhaps four more decades to live, so for a third of her life, this had been her home.

And now she would soon be displaced. Once she came back from her honeymoon, the sea would only be visible during holidays. There would be no calming lap of water against rocks and sand. No gulls flying overhead.

No place to swim to avoid everything when life got horrible.

No sea breeze cooling her skin on a hot day.

There would only be grassy hills for miles and miles and miles. Hills and country houses, and the paved streets of London in winter.

As much as she had always longed to be away from here. As much as she yearned for the freedom and happiness her marriage would provide, she could suddenly not help but feel a kinship with the rugged shores, the stormy temperamental sea, and the isolation of the town in the middle of nowhere. It had become her, and she had become Sanditon.

Would the sea ever fit in a manor? Wild, unpredictable, free and stormy as she was.

Impulsively, she tugged off her leather boots and untied her stockings.

Her face scrunched.

No, she still despised the feel of sand between her toes.

The romantic notion of her Sanditon shattered right as it was forming. But the sea still called to her.

She took a deep breath when the cool water washed over her feet. And deeper, where the sand no longer felt sticky and warm and wrong, but cool and flat.

Yes, the sea she could romanticize and miss. She could feel it rushing in to take away her worries for the marriage and the weight of the past. The salt wind burned her eyes but it cleaned her as well, making her feel light and whole.

Carelessly, she dropped her skirts and took out her letters. She felt decades younger, ragged edges smoothed by the tide that Babington had carried in, corroding the layers of hate and fear, breaking down her walls like a storm could tear down a pier. He made her feel light and hopeful and reckless and giddy when she thought she was long past those feelings.

He had numbered the letters, it turned out.

With a smile, and a slight inclination to read the last letter first, she continued tearing open the first.

_‘Dear Esther,_

_I hope you have safely arrived home by the time you read this letter. I have no doubt you’re wondering what I could possibly have to say for six letters. Probably, you’re already thinking I’ll run out of things to say to you before our marriage has already started.’_

Esther smirked. She was indeed tempted to say that.

_‘But I have some cards up my sleeve. There’s been thoughts in my head I haven’t shared yet. And these letters are a safe way for me to tell my thoughts, share my memories, and express my feelings in a way that is safe. I waited until now, to do so sooner would have been outrageously improper and I feared it would push you from me rather than draw you nearer. If you wish, we can talk about the content of my letters once we see each other again, if not, it won’t bother me. I just wanted to get these things off my chest, and since they concern you, these letters are for you._

_Did you know that I have never had a woman treat me as coldly as you did the first night we met? You were making jokes at my expense for your own entertainment, not caring about the risk of being disliked by me. All while still adhering to general rules of propriety, dancing like a goddess and looking like Aphrodite become flesh._

_Perhaps it’s the hunter that hides in all of men, that made me chase that which does not want to be captured.’_

Esther’s eyes greedily consumed line after line. They had talked about it before. But this letter detailed every word she had ever said, and every experience they had shared, that made him fall from infatuation into love with her.

She was shocked by how many mundane moments were so big to him.

From when she didn’t allow herself to pout after she’d been defeated at chess, to her licking a drip of ice cream off her face when they’d gone to get ices after she’d been bullied in the store, his rage at her being treated unfairly in the store, the moment she told him she would stand with him even if he did become poor.

Esther could remember every moment vividly through her own eyes, and was surprised to see it all through his lens now.

_‘When I returned and saw you and my sister together, my heart could almost burst. She’s such a sensible girl, clever and witty and undeniably superior to her peers. As are you in my eyes. I wouldn’t have known what to do had you two disliked each other, but to see the both of you approving so wholly of one another relieved me incredibly. Now both the women I love carry each other’s seal of approval.’_

With a heart full of emotion, and stockings full of sand, Esther returned to the townhouse.

When she returned, Lady Denham made full use of the final moments she would have together with her niece. Esther sat through card game after card game, and played piece after piece on the piano.

She couldn’t quite bring herself to protest though. When this week was over, her aunt would be a sad lonely widow in a big empty house. She deserved Esther’s pity. She deserved some kindness. Especially after she did her best to set Esther up with Lord Babington and did her best to make her official courtship as enjoyable as possible despite the dreary start at the ball.

Lady Denham was a difficult woman, who had a lot of difficulty expressing emotion herself, but Esther felt she finally appreciated and understood her. Perhaps it was too little too late, but for as long as she was here, she’d try her best to make up for the time wasted being spiteful. Not seeing Lady Denham’s desperate attempt to put Sanditon on the map as a way of compensating for her lack of legacy in the shape of children. Not seeing her attempt to get her and Edward married as a way of expressing her love and worry for them.

Esther read the second letter in her bed early the next morning.

The quickly written cursive felt like a caress to her eyes.

She could even imagine him speaking the words.

_“My dearest Esther,_

_Another day closer._

_I admit I am nervous. When I am writing this letter my suit will be ready in five days. Which means that the day you read this letter will be the day of my final fitting._

_As wife, so husband._

_Shiny and new for our big day._

_Now I wonder, are you curious for my dress as I am for yours? I tried imagining it, but I can’t even guess the colour. You wore red and black a lot when I first got to know you. But lately you’ve been wearing all hues of purple and blue. What colour is it? Is it blue? It would compliment your lovely hair, but then I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an unflattering colour on you._

_I must say, the thought that you think of my trying on clothes is an odd one. While the thought of you going through fittings, modelling a dress and twirling around, is a most alluring one. Perhaps I can put it down to your sex simply being more aesthetically pleasing than mine. Or female fashion being more entertaining._

_But probably, it’s because I am attracted to you._

_I tried being a good fiancé before, but I’ll be glad to see society’s control over my words finally go.”_

Esther flushed.

She felt like she was reading something entirely forbidden. Something inside of her told her she shouldn’t continue. That whatever she would read next, would be terribly improper. But the other part of her, the darker part that craved to know his most depraved thoughts, that desired the intimacy she’d been denied for so long, hunkered to read more.

She hadn’t imagined what his outfit might look like. Never imagined him going to a dress fitting.

But her memories of standing in a small cubicle in her chemise and stockings quickly transformed in an image of what he might look, standing in such a cubicle in a state of undress.

She could feel her hands, chest and face heating up. She did not doubt he too, had thought of her in a state of disrobe.

She felt shy and invaded, knowing someone had tried to imagine her body. Yet at the same time she was curious to know what he thought. It was evident he found the thought a pleasing one. What would he think of her once he truly saw her? Would she be worse than he imagined, or better?

Babington, you devil. How lewd you are. Writing of such things to a virgin. How scandalous.

_‘Since I’ve thrown all caution out of the window, and am now being properly scandalous, what’s one more rule broken?_

_My friend Crowe and sister Anne have already picked their outfits and have decided to go in blue. My mother is adamant about going in pink, however. I don’t know if they’re aware of it, but my coat is the perfect combination of their colours, only darker. It’s a very dark purple, with red lapels, the rest of my clothes are white and champagne coloured. I feared clashing with you, so I took the safest colours. Do with this information as you wish. I though it might perhaps be useful. And technically, it doesn’t count as seeing the bride or groom before the wedding._

_Though I wish I could. I can’t wait to see you again. I have no doubt you’ll look ravishing while walking down the aisle._

_At the time I’m writing this, you’ve just left my house some hours ago, and already I feel your absence. It would be a blessing indeed to spend my time with you in any way we like._ _There’s so much I’ve wondered about. How would you look when reading a book? Are you curled up in a comfortable chair? Or lounging on a chaise longue?_

_Would you be drinking tea or wine while reading? I dare bet it’s a lovely red wine late at night._

_I’ve sometimes imagined it, you reading a book while I’m working at night._

_Or the both of us, reclining on a sofa after a long day, in front of the fire, the dogs and now the young kittens walking around us, slowly sipping wine as I read soppy poems to you. You will without a doubt huff and roll your eyes, but I’ll just smile and know you enjoy it deep down.’_

‘Oh you’, Esther protested, rolling her eyes as he kept on guessing and guessing.

Each more accurate than the one before.

Yet still, he was so oblivious and stupid.

_Your sister and your best friend accidentally decide on wearing the same colours? She prefers to colour match with Mr. Crowe instead of your mother and still you think nothing of it? Dear, you are in for a shocker._

Esther laughed as she continued reading.

_‘Sometimes I imagine us going to balls, you on my arms. Or visiting operas. But mostly, I think of more private moments. Once we are married, I think I’ll prefer to go to the opera with you alone. Then no one would be able to interrupt our moments in the backroom.’_

Esther blushed at the recollection. His warm hands on her waist, his lips against her neck. Her heart leapt. Just what would he have done had they not been interrupted.

She could feel a tingle across her body. His words lit her up as if she was a wick and he the flame. She hardly knew how to make sense of this… heat, that scared her as much as it brought her giddiness and pleasure.

‘Sometimes I imagine more practical things. Like whether we would stick to private rooms, or share one. I don’t want to pressure you. Both are fine with me. But I can’t help thinking of small domestic scenes, like sharing a private breakfast. Or coming home from a hunting trip and finding you scoffing at me as I walk in the house, saying I muddy the floor and wear horribly unfashionable clothes.’

The small scenes did nothing to dampen her smile, it only grew.

She wanted that.

There was not a picture he painted she didn’t want to see come true.

A ridiculous tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

She was growing awfully soppy and it was all his fault.

Where was this cold independent hateful negative woman she’d been for so long?

But she knew that girl had been a farce, a façade she’d hidden her heart behind as Edward kept on abusing and hurting it. Making sure no one else could injure her heart.

She had dreamt of such romantic domestic scenes all her life.

She had wanted this all her life.

She had been loving and warm all her life.

Only now she had a willing subject to bestow her love upon.

_‘I don’t know what else to write about my little imaginations. I suppose I’ve shared most of what I have dreamt of now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go dream some more of my wife walking towards me, her shining hair concealed behind a veil. And then, without a doubt, the dream will continue to the point where I can take that veil off with my own hands._

_Much love, yours.’_

Had he just admitted to dreaming about their wedding night?

She bit her lip.

He was so preposterous.

She loved it.

She quickly hid the letter and covered it well. This could _not_ be found by anyone.

She had agreed to meet up with Charlotte and Georgiana in Tom Parker’s home as the man himself and his brothers had to meet up with Lady Denham. The old woman had been serious about keeping a very tight leash on the Parker family.

Esther could not blame her.

Charlotte was pale and could not hide the tremor about her brow every time her emotions threatened to swallow her, but she fought her grief handsomely.

‘I suppose it is a blessing we do not live underneath the same roof. Nor does he drop by as regularly as he used to do’, Charlotte updated her on the situation of living with Mary and Tom Parker.

‘And his blonde hag is off enjoying herself somewhere in the countryside’, Georgiana added, mentioning the person who Charlotte could not talk about, and calling her what Charlotte’s kind heart would not allow her to call her beloved’s future wife.

‘Good.’

‘No worry though. Sidney told me she was most eager to attend your wedding’, Georgiana sourly smiled.

‘Lovely’, Esther answered dryly.

‘If she dares to speak one bad word about the wedding, or Charlotte, I’ll tear out her tongue and wear it as a choker’, Georgiana promised.

‘I support that bold fashion statement’, Esther huffed.

‘Esther, Georgiana, please’, Charlotte begged.

‘I must be able to pretend she is able to be kind. That somewhere deep down she can be good. Otherwise I’ll leave knowing Sidney is going to be miserable for the rest of his life and I don’t want that.’

That was enough to shut the two friends up.

‘You won’t be miserable for the rest of your life. Why, Sidney had his heartache at your age and he fell in love twice after that’, Georgiana smiled.

‘And Mr. Crowe apparently also had his heart broken in his early twenties.’

‘Yes and?’

‘And well, he’s in love again. And he’ll probably marry within a couple of years. Just goes to say, if there’s a second chance for someone as depraved and lost as Mr. Crowe, there must certainly be someone out there to give you the happy ending you deserve Charlotte’, Esther comforted her.

‘Oh. My. God. It’s _raining_!’ Georgiana shouted.

Esther’s heart dropped.

‘What? _No_. No this can’t happen!’

The three girls rushed towards the window where tiny droplets quietly ran teary tracks down the glass.

‘It can still clear up’, Charlotte smiled, laying a hand on Esther’s shoulder.

‘I mean look, I can still see spots of blue over there. It’ll blow over.’

Instead of the spots of blue being blown towards them, the clouds had drifted and drowned out the blue spots.

It had rained for the remainder of the day.

She darkly remembered the words of Lord Byron she’d once read: “The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August.”

She was supposed to have an outdoors wedding.

She was ready to go out and fight Zeus for making the roads muddy so shortly before her wedding. This was her day. How dare he ruin her plans?

She went to bed angry, and woke up sad.

Still, the rain had not stopped.

She was as stormy as the weather that day, and refused to open her third letter, knowing she would need its comfort to fall asleep that night.

She played loud piano pieces and beat her aunt at cards, and drank her tea very dark without any milk or sugar. No book could keep her attention. She went to bed as moody as she woke up.

She kept her frown on her face as she reread Babington’s first letter, but the second one managed to make her blush and wonder all over again. Hungry for more of his thoughts, she opened the third letter.

Three poems fell out. With a note of only a single line.

_‘I’m no poet, but I do know them. Much love, yours truly.’_

It did not satisfy her in the least, although the poems were very tasteful. One by an Arab, one by a Spaniard, and one by a Scot. At least it showed how well educated and well read he was.

She went to bed with a scowl, and only fell asleep after much tossing and turning and finally falling asleep after trying to imagine just what might happen had they not been interrupted in the theatre. And what they could have done, had they not decided to exit the backroom shortly after her love confession.

He really had put an imagine in her head.

Something had shifted in the air.

The sea had calmed.

The wind had gone to bed.

Grass still gleamed with droplets of rain water, but it fell no longer.

And the sun had fought its way through the clouds.

Right now it was shining through Esther’s open window. She hadn’t even closed the curtains the previous night, she had stared at the dark rainy window instead.

It prickled her eyes now, and heated her freckled skin.

When the burn became too hot, she woke.

‘Oh thank god’, she sighed in relief.

She instantly threw the covers off of her body and stalked towards the window to inspect the outside world.

The streets of Sanditon were a muddy mess, but the air felt dry.

Perhaps, if no more rain fell, they could still have an outside wedding. All she needed was one hot day to dry the soil enough for them to be able to walk without getting their skirts dirty in the garden. That was the advantage of living in a sandy place, the water drained quickly.

She called in her maid to dress and rushed through dinner. She was ready for a final visit to her old home. She wasn’t sure she could walk through the rooms she had once shared with Edward, the dark memories still stained those walls. But she did wish to say goodbye to the gardens.

And then, perhaps, she’d walk all the way until she left the grounds.

After all, what better place was there to read her next letter than the place Babington had proposed for the first time? She should have immediately accepted him. What heartache and embarrassment she would have saved herself from!

But perhaps it was a blessing she’d refused him. Otherwise, she would have perhaps never found out the depth of Edward’s and Clara’s depravity. Then a part of her heart might have still belonged to Edward. But now, it belonged wholly to Babington.

As she walked through the grounds, she couldn’t help but be impatient to leave them again. She couldn’t feel the nostalgia. It had been a joyless place for her. Instead, she was eager to get to the place where Babington proposed. The place where she had first laughed out loud in such a long time. Where she had first felt a glimmer of hope. Felt she was fully seen and admired for the first time.

_‘To the most beautiful fiancée on earth,_

_Allow me to make good use of these two letters I have left to call you such. Two nights of separate cold beds are left. And then we will be wed._

_I’ll be miserable both those nights, I’m confident all nights before will pale and be awful in retrospect. I was miserable just last night, knowing you’ll soon depart London (and will be long departed by the time you read this letter). I must keep busy to not dwell. If I don’t I’m seized by neverending daydreams. But it’s difficult. I have no patience for anything. What have you made of me? I used to be so productive. Sometimes usefully productive, sometimes just spending the days with friends and acquaintances. Never before were my thoughts so present._

_My love has made me selfish. I cannot give anyone or anything more attention than you. I am forgetful of everything but you and us. It is a good thing it is not long now. You have absorbed me._

_Time will only show whether I will get my sanity back once my feelings have calmed down a little, from a smouldering inferno into a cosy fire fitting for a hearth._

_Even as I write this I can’t help but think of the way our hands touch when we dance, the look you give me right before a kiss, the sound of a fragile very quiet sigh leaving your mouth right after a kiss, the taste of your neck._

_Ah, I forget my place, my lovely fiancée. I write as a husband already._

_I am still not allowed to corrupt you._

_I must put down my pen, or this letter overflows with thoughts that shouldn’t even be in my head in the first place._

_Your humble servant_

_J”_

Esther was once again grateful to be alone. And he said he had not the words of a poet! Well, perhaps not, but he certainly managed to wake more feelings in her than even the most talented poet could.

She was so hot and nervous and breathless.

What a mess he made of her.

She wanted to see him.

Needed to see him.

His letter was full of promises and he was dangling them right in front of her.

Was he intent on making her as desperate as him for their marriage?

She would not fall for it.

She would use him impatience as a weapon, and torture him by denying him everything as long as she could.

She would crawl towards the isle, instead of run as he wished.

Her heart jumped at the submissive tone of his letter.

She felt so unspeakably powerful knowing she held such sway over him.

She tucked the letter away, and safely carried it close to her chest throughout the day.

She challenged herself to be as busy as him, while successfully listening to others and bringing her tasks to an end.

The last letter felt too sacred to read the day before her marriage.

He was in town, she knew. Somewhere doing something.

He couldn’t be more than ten streets removed from him.

Yet she couldn’t see him.

Her skin itched, her muscles tense. Her body seemed too small for the feelings within her and it made her annoyed and snappish as she barged through barely dried grass, bossing around workmen to place down tables _there_ , and chairs _there_. Charlotte and Georgiana were decorating the old cold church. There was a draft, and she could still feel the humidity of the two days of rain within the walls. It smelled musty. Classic church smell. It was certainly no fancy London church.

It made Esther doubt for a second whether she’d made the right decision to marry in Sanditon. Now Babington’s family members would see from just how simple a parish she hailed.

 _They probably have a very fancy family chapel_ , Esther thought sourly.

But then she knew the alternative to be a wedding in London with a reception to which at least some of the Bon Ton would have come, or a wedding at Babington’s Estate, where she would have been surrounded by dozens of unfamiliar faces.

The pillars did not look as dreary with ribbons attached to them, nor did the tiles look as worn with the red carpet rolled out over them. And she knew from all the times she’d been dragged to church even when she didn’t want to, that when the sun hit the windows in the late morning, the blue, green and red colours of the windows reflected on the floor and walls beautifully.

And, she comforted herself, perhaps the flowers could make it smell nice tomorrow.

Esther drank more port than she was supposed to the night before her wedding, kept company by her aunt, Charlotte and Georgiana.

When Charlotte hesitantly remarked upon it, it was her aunt who tutted.

‘Like her future husband isn’t drinking just as much or more across town’, she said caustically while rolling her eyes.

‘Let the girl have her drink, she’s nervous.’

Esther was almost touched by Lady Denhalm’s understanding.

‘After all, she won’t be our problem when she wakes with a wine headache tomorrow. At least not for long’, the old woman shrugged, a smile audible in her voice.

Esther had almost been touched. Almost. 

Georgiana let out a laugh and Lady Denham smirked.

They had not gotten off on a good start, those two, but heavens, did they share their ruthless sense of humour and disregard for propriety.

Two wealthy, stubborn ladies intent on bringing hell to all those who annoyed them.

Perhaps they were just too alike to become friends.

‘I believe I have enough of people talking about me’, Esther decided.

She was thoroughly prickled.

‘I’ll go to bed.’

Her last night as a virgin.

Her last night under Lady Denham’s roof.

Her last night in Sanditon.

Her last night before she lost her name.

It struck her all at once and so powerfully, she couldn’t move for a couple of seconds.

Her last night spent together with her friends and aunt.

Her mouth twisted.

She felt awkward expressing her feelings.

And she really disliked being dramatic.

But it was the final time, she couldn’t just go upstairs like that.

‘Thank you for keeping me company. Charlotte, Georgiana. Really, it would have been a couple of awfully boring bland weeks without you two. I met you so late, I feel. I wish I had gotten to know the two of you sooner.’

The words dried on her tongue. She just couldn’t be sappy. It was already difficult enough with Babington, and was just impossible with others.

‘But it’s not like I’m going to die. I’m sure you’ll write to me as I to you whenever I tire of my lord. And we’ll see each other plenty, I’m sure. I’ll be like one of those fancy ladies always having some friends over in her grand estate’, Esther smiled sardonically.

Georgiana nodded and Charlotte rushed to her arms.

‘I’m sure’, Charlotte said.

Esther did not cry.

But a single emotional tear might have rolled over her cheek as she hugged her friend.

‘Auntie’, Esther smirked.

‘Niece’, her aunt greeted, quirking an eyebrow.

Ah, two ice cubes that recognized themselves in the other but were separated by an invisible wall that had only just started cracking and chipping off slightly.

But tonight was the only night she had left to break it. And tomorrow evening, the wall would forever be up again.

And so Esther sank through her knees and smashed the wall. Placing her hands on Lady Denham’s shoulders and pressing a kiss on each cheek, whispering a soft thank you before she rose.

‘Now, I need my beauty sleep’, Esther decided as she moved towards the door.

‘Why? It’s not like he could back out tomorrow’, Georgiana grinned.

‘She’ll need her sleep tonight. Lord knows when she gets in another eight hours of it’, Lady Denham shot back.

Esther turned around and did not answer as Georgiana started cackling.

Comfortable within the shelter of her bed, curtains drawn on all sides except the one with her lamp and the letters, she took out the final one.

Her body temperature increased, cheeks reddening and palms sweating as her eyes flew from one line to the next, hypnotized and fully fascinated, lips opening with surprise and interest every so often, before pulling up into a smile. Her cheeks flushed as scarlet as her hair before she tucked it safely away.

She couldn’t think of the words. Feeling she might not sleep a wink if she started asking herself questions and wondering about the contents.

The contents were…

Oh, but she did dream of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Georgian era was actually characterized by its very tolerant attitude towards sex. One needs only look at the numerous cartoons that were published everywhere showing partial nudity, sex, or at least references to sex and lust to know that they were very unvictorian. It was only after 1805 that bowdlerizing books to make them more couth. Books that were read in family circles, or were considered alright, now started being deemed improper and corrupting. New moralists appeared.  
> . It was in this time it became fashionable for women to have such delicacy they couldn't read certain stuff without blushing.  
> This transition towards a more puritan society was completed by the 1830. However, it was confirmed by Charlotte Spencer Esther was 27 years old during Sanditon, and Babington is probably in his thirties. That means both spent their formative years in a sex positive environment that was more open in regards to the topic.  
> I like balancing Esther and Babington against the younger ladies, like I did during the previous chapter. The young friends of Anne were all born in the new century, and thus raised with a lot of sensibility and delicacy. So when Mr. Crowe patronizingly mansplains how women aren’t delicate by nature but by design, he is actually being quite truthful. But of course, to the young girls it is their reality. And they have been raised to believe that they are beacons of virtue, and need to be. The delicate were supposed to have an intuitive ability to tell right from wrong; they were supposed to have an infallible eye for beauty and proportion, as well as instinctive knowledge of the proper behaviour in any circumstance. Anna Milbanke, the later Lady Byron, was considered almost infallible in her moral judgments.  
> Esther of course is aware of this, because she is expected to be delicate. All young unmarried females were expected to be delicate and proper. There was an idea that a young lady shouldn’t even see or hear anything that might make her blush. Any encounter with something less than pure might make people question her virtue, and Esther had exactly that problem with Edward’s dramatic shouting at the ball. So she follows the rules, as does Babington, but we have two people adhering to the morals of the present day, but with the mindsets of the previous generation. So they can have some improper love letters, especially since they're secret :p
> 
> Of course, I've also neglected real history to some extent in this story: engagement rings were only a thing amongst the highest elite and only became common practice during the victorian era, wedding invites were not really a thing since most regency weddings were small afffairs, oftentimes even high society weddings had under ten guests present in the church (but I did feel I could do with wedding invites in this fic since Esther's wedding does seem to be quite large with the whole town present), and of course a honeymoon like theirs is quite unrealistic (although making long trips to the continent isn't strange for the wealthiest layer of society).
> 
> Parts of Babington's final written love letter are fashioned after love letters of Keats. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and are still excited to see what's next!
> 
> I must say, before my grandmother died I had elaborate plans for a mermaid fic about Sidlotte and another one about Babington&Esther this summer, those plans went bust and I instead decided to write a Game of Thrones fic in which I killed a lot of family members (lol). But I might make up and do some halloween inspired ones. I'm aching for some one shots, or at least shorter stories :p


	21. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, it’s here! It’s happening!
> 
> And coincidentally the weekend the wedding episode of Sanditon is being aired again :p
> 
> I for the life of me can't understand why they put Babington in a dark red at the wedding. Almost everyone of their family and closest friends is wearing pink or blue. And by all accounts blue is his colour, red was always so much associated with the Denhams and particularly Edward. It vexes me but oh well, rolling with the clothing department's choices.

Today it wasn’t Zeus who reigned the skies, but Apollo and soft golden rays were cast upon the face of the sleeping bride.

After a month of anticipation and preparation the young woman awoke as a single miss a final time.

If any reader is curious to know which emotion won out between giddy excitement, anxiety, love and stress to get through the ceremony without anything going wrong, they will be satisfied to know that Esther Denham did not act out of character even on this very unusual and special day in her life.

‘Crap’, the bride breathed as she startled awake.

There were no more preparations to be had, only she herself, and that was perhaps the scariest part. There was no more preparing.

But let it not be said she was unwilling. She had everything to look forward to.

The wish fulfilment of a dream she’d had since her early childhood.

The end of her singledom right before she ventured into old spinster territory.

The trip of a lifetime.

An eager husband who actually wanted to spend time with her.

She had a few minutes to contemplate the momentousness of this day, as her life would from now one forever be split into a before and after.

Then the maids knocked on the door.

She was allowed the luxury of a twenty minute soak in a lavender oil bath to which milk was added to soften her skin.

That was all the time she had to soften the nervous muscles in her back. From behind the door Lady Denham complained she had to get on with it as she’d have plenty of time to get pampered once she was married, but that she would not get that chance if she was late to church today.

Despite the pressure to get ready on time, the whole ceremony had something calming. She’d never been tended to by so many, and she did feel like her privacy was more than a bit invaded, but she was kept so busy with nothing but her own toilette she had no time to stress or overthink.

There were only light thoughts.

Her stockings were very sheer and dainty, weren’t they? She prayed they wouldn’t roll down despite the blue garters meant to hold them in place.

Wasn’t that short sleeved chemise with purple embroidery scandalously transparent? And was this a good or a bad thing? Her aunt had ordered it to be made after all.

Then her stays were put on, doubtlessly the prettiest ones she’d ever had, with a purple hem and purple satin laces.

Overhead went her petticoat with excessive frilly flower patterned lace on the bottom and around her neckline.

And then.

Her heart stopped.

This wasn’t a try out. This was it.

The final product she would walk down the aisle in.

Her last dress as Esther Denham and her first dress as _Lady Babington_.

It was at this moment Lady Denham walked in with a cup of tea and a tiara in hand, sitting down in her red and orange dress, head covered by a large pink feathery hat, on one of the chairs.

‘Well’, she said as she nodded approvingly before taking another sip of her tea.

‘Satisfied?’

Esther put her arms in her sleeves. The maid went to her back to start lacing the dress.

‘Yes aunt, thank you.’

‘No clever remarks?’

‘I don’t know what I should say.’

‘Not excited? After all, it’s supposed to be the best day of your life.’

‘Is that why you had two of them?’ Esther shot back mercilessly.

Perhaps she wasn’t so calm after all.

‘Watch that tongue until his vows are spoken, he’s as good as yours but he isn’t yours yet’, Lady Denham warned.

‘I’ll be the bigger person and say I wish you’ll only need the one, and will succeed better at this one than I did at my two.’

‘You don’t think your marriages were successful?’

‘They were successful for me. I got a nice house and wealth, but I know well enough that in the eyes of society, and in regards to my personal desires that went beyond practical desires, I failed.’

She downed her tea and placed in down on the table once Esther’s laces were done.

‘Sit down at the vanity. And you, go’, Lady Denham instructed.

The maid excused herself and Esther took place in front of the large mirror.

Esther thought better of it than to speak.

‘I only had my heart broken once, and only a little. That was my blessing. Along with the wealth of course. But I never had love and I never had children’, Lady Denham said in her habitual careless manner.

Esther was impressed by how much Lady Denham was making use of the final minutes they had together. The old lady unwrapped Esther’s curls one by one. She’d bound them with strips of cloth the night before so they’d look extra tight and nice on the day of her wedding. She wanted a special hairstyle for her wedding and her natural curls were wildly unpredictable.

‘I meant it when I said you couldn’t do better if he was advanced in years and in poor health. The man didn’t have a perceptible arrogant streak or a ridiculous spending habit, and he didn’t mind being obvious with his intentions. Most a woman can strife for is to be comfortable, and the best way to achieve that is to marry a man who doesn’t burn his money or believes himself to be the king of the universe. And that was before I knew how ridiculously besotted he was with you.’

‘Aunt.’

Her aunt tutted.

Esther believed that she deliberately put Esther’s curls in her face afterwards.

‘Do write letters from every destination. And paint a watercolour if you can, it won’t look good, I know. Your accomplishments are less accomplishments and more moderately tolerable passes of a disinterested student. However, they will be sufficient to show to my friends to make them jealous and tell stories about.’

That sounded more like Lady Denham.

‘You wound me. Now I feel forced to acquire the most delicate watercolours and paint the most stunning vedute.’

‘Oh do feel forced, by all accounts’, Lady Denham said.

She gently brushed through the curls and parted Esther’s hair up front, drawing two lines to mark to where Esther’s tresses were allowed to fall and scooping up the others. The old woman twisted her lips as she looked at her niece’s reflection in the mirror.

‘Something Grecian looking, hmph? That’s fashionable. Can’t wait for that fad to die out.’

‘That fad has been in fashion for over twenty years now, aunt’, Esther pointed out dryly.

‘And it hasn’t become more appealing to my eye. We only started dressing in that silly way because of France. And I’ll be damned to let my fashion be ruled by the way the French handled a select few of their own nobles. We’re Great Britain, for heaven’s sake. We’re greater than those overly affectionate radical ninnies’, the great woman huffed.

Esther rolled her eyes. She would never change or bow. Personally she believed that elites being as inflexible as Lady Denham were the whole reason people lost their heads in the first place, besides economic reasons. But the revolution had blown over so there was no need to point out that Lady Denham would have been amongst the first to get a date with the chopping block had the revolutionary spirit blown across the pond.

Lady Denham twisted Esther’s hair and pinned the curls on the sides of the twist with so much metal a necklace could’ve been made out of it, and she wasn’t delicate with jabbing the pins into Esther’s skull either, but it did make Esther feel quite secure her hairdo would hold. Then Lady Denham let the inches of free curls fall and tumble across the pinned section.

‘There, satisfied?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘And now what you have undoubtedly been waiting for’, the Lady said with such a huff that an ordinary person might belief she felt sorry to give up her tiara, the woman placed the sparkling flower tiara onto Esther’s head, then pinned it in place and covered the pins with some of Esther’s hair.

The hairstyle did look very flattering, it took years off her face compared to her usual more severe hairdo.

But she also felt naked and vulnerable with her hair moving so freely.

‘Put those earrings on first, don’t want you to accidentally pierce your veil’, the woman pointed out.

Esther put in the earrings Lady Babington had gifted her and with three added pins, her veil was attached to her hair as well. She was glad the veil was not any longer, despite how sheer it was she could still feel it anytime she lifted or turned her head.

‘Well, breakfast time.’

‘But we’re having a wedding breakfast. And I’m already dressed. You want to risk that I get my dress dirty before the ceremony?’

‘I wanted you to be dressed first. I rather have you dressed with a hungry stomach in case we were short on time, than with a full stomach but in your unmentionables. Now, I had a fruit salad without fruits that left stains ready, and I’m sure napkins can be produced for some porridge or tea.’

Lady Denham stomped out of the room.

‘Time!’ she demanded.

Esther couldn’t hear the answer, but the old woman did.

‘Well, get on moving. You have ten minutes to eat. That’s time aplenty! But it won’t be enough if you sit there gawking like a fish for five minutes first. Come on.’

So Esther came along with her aunt.

Six spoons of porridge, eleven of fruit salad and half a cup of tea later a tinted lip balm was smeared across her lips and cheeks and the slightest hint of brown kohl was blurred out across her eyelids before she was pushed outside.

There was little time for blushing, but by now Esther’s heart was beating so furiously she couldn’t even see or think clearly anyways.

She couldn’t even think about the monumentality of what was about to happen.

She couldn’t even think hard enough to feel self-conscious.

The cart whirled through the streets because of course, Lady Denham had to go to the toilet right before they left and that had been a chore since she wished to use her own chamber pot and had to put her whole outfit back in place, and then her throat was dry, so she had to drink first.

And then they had to make the carriage drive back because the bridal bouquet had been forgotten in a vase in the hallway.

Second time’s charm, Esther hoped as the carriage shook her while skipping over the pits in the street, her bouquet dripping onto a cloth she held under it.

It did smell very nice, although even her nose was affected with nerves.

Lily of the valley, for good luck and happiness.

White peonies for prosperity, love and wealth.

White roses as a symbol of eternal loyalty, purity, innocence. She couldn’t even feel jaded today. She looked like a blushing bride, and every day with Babington made the memory of Edward fade a little. She had not really given him a part of her. For all that it was good for, she still had her purity and some of her innocence. She was allowed to be a young bride today.

Myrtle, for chastity, a long life and marital bliss.

Galanthus Snowdrops

And… Dear god.

‘Aunt, who put dill in my bouquet?’

‘Well, it’s flowering so it blends in, and it’s hardly noticeable between all that greenery.’

‘But why dill?’

The carriage halted, and Esther almost flew to the other bench.

‘Symbol for lust, of course’, the old woman said slyly before hopping out of the carriage with the briskness of a young child.

Oh dear, was it time already?

Esther stumbled out of the carriage, narrowly avoiding stepping on her hem and falling face first onto the dusty road.

It couldn’t be time already.

She felt like shuffeling, but a bride could not drag her feet if she wore white silken slippers. At least not before the wedding was over. She couldn’t get into church with shoes brown with dirt.

‘The music will signify when you have to answer’, the old lady repeated in case the younger one forgot. She did remember how nervous she had been once so long ago.

She turned to look across her shoulder, and something on Esther’s face made Lady Denham’s lip pull in what was supposed to be a kind smile.

‘I’m sorry we don’t have any men in the family worthy of leading you down the aisle.’

The lady put a hand on Esther’s shoulder and clenched it in a comforting manner.

‘Luckily Denham women have enough guts and character to manage without men. I’ll see you on the other end, Miss Esther Denham’, Lady Denham said, lifting her eyebrows before pulling the door closed behind her.

Babington was waiting on the other end as well.

To marry her.

She wouldn’t come out of this church as herself.

Everything would be changed.

Was the door moving? Because it suddenly zigged and zagged in front of her vision.

Maybe she should have eaten more.

_Just nerves, silly nerves. They don’t know I have nothing to be nervous about._

There’s nothing that can go wrong. Even if someone says the words wrong, the marriage won’t be stopped then and there.

Well, unless the reverent dies…

No no!

The doors creaked open. 

She bit her lip to swallow another curse, feeling a giddiness flutter in her belly at having almost cursed standing an inch before the church.

Her lips quirked up into a smile.

The music was playing.

She took a deep breath, looking down to make sure she wouldn’t stumble on the final step.

Why was she so silly? Every task was suddenly so challenging.

Apparently she wasn’t above being as ridiculous as every other bride on her wedding day.

She bit her lip, but this time it was to prevent herself from smiling widely.

_I can’t show my teeth laughing in church._

_I should probably look up, what kind of bride looks at the ground the whole time?_

Her heart dropped, and instantly soared away through the window. Babington was waiting somewhere down along the aisle for her. She wouldn’t arrive alone.

_I’m not here for the guests, I’m here for him._

_But I am to be his lady, maybe I should behave just a little._

She felt ridiculous, but it was simply impossible to wipe the smile off her face as she laid her hand on his arm.

But she did feel quite smug reaching the end without flashing her teeth.

Words started being said, and a tinge of panic hit her that perhaps, she had not practised her words enough.

But from somewhere buried within, all the right words flowed out even as her mind couldn’t put them together a minute beforehand.

She had never written an uglier signature in her life, standing across the registry, awkwardly hunched over, her flowers in her other hand, and her writing hand shaking with nerves and excitement and oh god this was actually a very important life-altering moment and she was rushing through it with barely a second thought while she was supposed to remember and retell this story her whole life and –

A hand on her back stilled her movement.

Looking up into a pair of smiling eyes she naturally gravitated towards, she narrowly avoiding kissing in front of the holy man.

It was the dill, Esther was absolutely blaming the dill.

Did she run outside? She didn’t think she did. But Babington definitely wasn’t slow either.

Only now she could look at her guests.

Mr. Crowe, the youngest Parker brother and her aunt stood on her side, and across stood Lady Babington in pink with a pink feathery hat not unlike her aunt’s, Anne in a lovely blue silk pelisse, and there stood Charlotte in her lovely pink spender right beside Georgiana in her yellow one. She also noticed the dreamwrecker wearing pink. Esther didn’t pay the pink salmon any mind, Charlotte looked way superior. 

A hand on her face distracted her from looking at the guests.

He would waste no time.

She allowed her laugh to stumble freely from her lips as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers.

And then her eyes slipped closed and bliss filled her from the inside out, seeping into every pore as she basked in his embrace underneath the summer sun.

Did it taste better because they were married? Or because she was so over the moon happy?

She pulled back to end the kiss. She didn’t want to look improper within the first five seconds of being Lady Babington, but Babington’s lips greedily followed her, his hand sneaking around her waist. 

Only newlyweds could get away with that.

She laughed and let him kiss her as long as he liked. He held her just steady enough that she didn’t fall over.

She could only shake her head at him, words refusing to come out.

He took her hand with a big grin.

‘Lady Babington’, he greeted her as he lead the procession towards the wedding breakfast.

‘Do you want to cause a scandal?’

‘No, but I do want to kiss _my wife_. Isn’t a man allowed to show appreciation on his wedding day?’ he laughed

‘Afterwards too, I won’t be complaining. But don’t come crying when your friends make jokes about you.’

‘I’m really too old to be vexed by their teasing. Especially if it is for something like loving my wife. I’m not ashamed of that.’

‘Are you going to call me your wife every minute of our marriage?’

‘Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, dear wife of mine’, he winked.

‘Incorrigible man.’

‘Too late to run away now.’

‘Not too late to discipline you for teasing your poor wife so’, she shot back, raising her eyebrows.

His mouth fell open then, eyes growing wide.

His throat bobbed.

She was about to apologize or start talking about something else when he answered: ‘Alright, do your worst.’

‘Is that a challenge?’ she gasped in disbelief.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Well _I_ won’t encourage you to do _your_ worst. Some kind of husband you are, already forcing your wife to work on the very first day.’

‘My, this must be a record in the history of marriages.’

‘You look almost eager.’

He didn’t deign that worthy of an answer and instead held out her chair for her. She sat down, thoroughly puzzled, and put the snippet of information away to mull over at a later time.

She needn’t wait long for company.

‘Sister! Oh how delightful, eighteen years of living and I can finally call another sister!’ Anne cried in delight as she sat down.

‘Congratulations my dear. Welcome to the family.’

Anne pressed a kiss to Esther’s cheek.

‘Thank you.’

She turned towards her right when a hand was laid upon her shoulder.

‘Congratulations to the happy couple’, said Lady Babington with a soft smil, looking from Babington to Esther.

‘Welcome to the family, dear girl. I wish you all the happiness.’

A motherly kiss was placed upon her forehead.

Lady Denham came by as well to convey her wishes, as did Charlotte and Georgiana.

She was introduced to guest after guest as she sat there sipping wine. There was not enough time to eat as much as a bite between introductions, but there was time to drink two glasses.

But then the list of guests was exhausted, and Esther could finally start on her breakfast.

Even her husband could not distract her until she finished off the first course.

‘So, may I enquire after my letters.’

‘They are in good health, packed in my trunk and ready for their journey to your estate.’

‘Ah, excellent. And…’

‘Lord Babington, how you dare ask such questions after last night’s letter is beyond me. Do you want for me to detail what I found of it and what questions I had after reading it?’ Esther asked, raising her eyebrows.

Lord Babington turned an undignified pink.

‘I apologize if-‘

‘Oh no, by all accounts, don’t apologize. I found your letters most endearing and enlightening. But my my, you really did discard all sense of propriety. Such a bad…’ she bit her lip, but couldn’t help laughing.

‘Ah I see, so you were entertained!’ he cried.

‘You could say’, she snickered.

‘See if you’ll snicker once we arrive home.’

Now it was her turn to turn pink, entirely due to the fault of the bright sun, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up:   
> 1: Anne pov  
> 2: Georgiana pov  
> 3: Charlotte pov  
> 4: Arrival at Babington's house & wedding night
> 
> I had a blast writing this story and imagining what might have happened during the time jump. And I want to thank you all for joining me in this journey. What was your favorite part or chapter in this story thus far? And what is one thing you are hoping to see in the next few planned out chapters?


	22. Tossing the Bouquet (Anne POV)

Sanditon reminded her a bit of her home town. Sure, the roads weren’t paved and there were no mighty ancient trees and deer and skittish foxes, but it had the same spirit of spontaneity, the same kind of quaint church, and the same kind of warm people who cared for each other instead of appearances. She wouldn’t mind going home for some time after this wedding was over.

Nothing ever felt as pleasing or comforting as her childhood home.

It was a sad thing that, like Esther, she would have to leave it all behind in the future.

And in that future there will be no formal gardens with idyllic fountains, no rose gardens, glass verandas or lake they used as a swimming pond in summer. She could only think of two dozen or so houses like hers she knew of, and none of them belonged to men she was willing to marry. She was utterly spoilt, born in just the perfect lap.

After breakfast was had, Anne did a polite round around the tables, mostly sticking to the side of Georgiana and Charlotte and her mother. She never did feel comfortable around people she didn’t know.

Georgiana was regularly checked upon by a Mrs. Griffiths and two young misses Beaufort. They were kind enough, but as of yet, Anne did not particularly care for them.

‘Georgiana, who are those two people of there talking to Miss Heywood?’

The girl turned in the direction of Anne’s eye, and rolled hers before turning back.

‘ _That_ will be my warden, Mr. Sidney Parker.’

‘The one you disliked.’

She recognized the name though; he was one of her brother’s best friends and business partners. But she had never met him before.

‘Yes. Well. It’s complicated. He did some good things, and he did some really bad things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Being involved in slave trade, indirectly, but still’, Georgiana said.

It was obvious why that was a big issue with the dark girl.

‘Oh dear.’

‘Let’s not dwell on it today. I don’t want to ruin my mood now that I’m having a semi-good day’, Georgiana said as she kept her eyes pinned to the three people.

‘And that woman in pink’, Anne pointed out.

The lady in pink looked very proper, her hair neatly – if somewhat too severe to her own tastes – done. The pastel colour made her look somewhat faded. A pity, Anne noted, since she did have quite aristocratic features. Blue would have looked lovely on her. It was almost comical how wilted the pink made the lady look, while Charlotte looked like a proper blossom in her pink spencer.

‘That’s _her_.’

Rarely had that word been spoken with such contempt.

‘Her?’

‘I have the displeasure of presenting Mrs. Eliza Campion, the whore of Babylon who broke my warden’s heart because she wanted money more than him, and has now returned to make all our lives miserable’, Georgiana growled.

‘Oh that’s dreadful.’

As they inched nearer, Anne noticed her expression had the same mix of haughtiness and politeness she’d seen on hundreds of entitled faces. She’d learned to avoid those kinds of people.

‘She’s also Mr. Parker’s fiancée.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh indeed, do avoid her. Or well, perhaps she will be kind to _you_ , money greatly endears people to her.’

Anne just about managed to prevent her face from souring.

‘So we should save Miss Heywood?’ Anne asked.

‘Oh yes. Sorry, I was too busy throwing daggers’, Georgiana said. Her march towards Charlotte came too late though, as Mrs. Campion had already joined Esther and John.

‘Are you alright, Charlotte?’

‘Fine’, the girl smiled, but there was a painful edge to her smile.

‘What was Sidney’s deal?’ Georgiana asked, nodding at her ward.

‘Oh, nothing much. Just polite inquiries.’

‘He should’ve been more polite to you before, and never polite to her’, Georgiana huffed.

Anne looked between the two girls. And suddenly it all clicked. Georgiana had once said the both of them were no strangers to heartbreak. And here was a man who apparently made Charlotte emotional and was engaged to another woman.

What was it Georgiana had told her the day of the London ball this summer? Only love once you’re certain an offer of marriage will be made? Her heart bled for the girl. Had she fallen in love with the tall man who had then gotten engaged to another?

She didn’t even want to imagine what that must be like. The thought of Mr. Crowe carelessly engaging himself to another chilled her to the bone, and her brain blocked her mind from creating too vivid an imagine.

‘The next time that pompous pastel tart comes to you, I’ll tell her her company isn’t desired’, Georgiana decided.

‘Pray don’t. She just came to get S- Mr. Parker’, Charlotte protested.

‘Or what? She’ll think poorly of us? She probably already does.’

‘I won’t give her the satisfaction of acting as uncivilised as she thinks I am.’

Anne’s gaze slid away towards her brother and newly acquired sister. She’d never seen Esther smile so fake. She wasn’t even really trying to hide her contempt.

The redhead turned away.

‘Alright, suppose it is time to toss my flowers’, she said loudly.

A lady didn’t yell, but she could speak loudly enough so the news was carried on.

A perfect excuse to get away from Mrs. Campion, Anne supposed. The breakfast had lasted long enough, it was already past noon and they still had to travel home. Her mother and her had agreed to allow the married couple a day alone, and they’d remain in Sanditon for a day more before following.

Since the days of yore, brides have been considered to be blessed by good luck on their wedding day.

And although hardly any bride risked having her clothes and hair torn by weddinggoers wanting to get some good luck by pawing at the bride, the bouquet was still thrown.

Positively medieval, if anyone cared to ask Anne. But she supposed the tradition was innocent enough if the only cost was some bruised flowers that had served their purpose.

There were not a lot of women gathering behind Esther. There was a tall dark haired woman in green who looked to be about thirty, the two Miss Beauforts, Charlotte, Georgiana, two other ladies she didn’t know and she herself.

She supposed it would be rather unfair to catch the bouquet, given she already had something of an agreement.

Esther did not strike her as weak, and most of the weddings she’d witnessed the brides had thrown their bouquets quite far. Always over the right shoulder, and then from the right shoulder it flew diagonally away from them, towards the left side of the single ladies who stood behind her back.

Anne deliberately placed herself close to Esther’s right shoulder, as most of the others present deliberately went to stand behind Esther’s left shoulder, expecting the bouquet to move their way.

Anne threw a glance over her shoulder. Charlotte still looked quite rattled. The poor girl. All girls recognized love sickness in each other. From all she’d seen of Charlotte, the girl was as sweet, smart and good natured as they came. She did not deserve to be unhappy. 

‘Throw it to Diana, will you?’ Tom Parker, who she had been introduced to earlier, asked obliviously as he came to stand close. His wife hit him, and the woman in green, Diana apparently, looked to be thoroughly affronted.

‘I don’t know what our lord thinks of such pagan rituals’, a reverend mused.

‘Does not the lord believe in matrimony?’ asked Mrs. Griffiths.

‘Of course he does.’

‘I’m sure he would not disapprove of young ladies actively looking forward to the joys of marriage then.’

‘But whether he would approve of some pagan token of good luck’, he muttered.

‘Oh, it’s perfectly innocent. Otherwise the church would have outlawed it, I’m sure.’

Anne supressed a giggle.

‘A good throw alright. We all love a good wedding!’ cried another guest.

‘Now you jinxed it!’ another guest cried.

‘Well what’s the worst that can happen? Someone’s got to catch it!’

The bride couldn’t help but laugh as the girls behind her nervously shifted and the guests all stood around them, watching in anticipation as some cried words of advice and jests.

Anne softly smiled, awaiting the moment the bouquet flew past her and hopefully made a bitter sad lonely girl happy.

But that was not what fate had planned.

She was laughing so much that seconds after she straightened her shoulders to throw, she sacked down her knees with laughter.

And off went the bouquet, hardly thrown. Tossed like garbage, more like.

It didn’t fly, it sank towards the ground.

_Oh no, the flowers!_

Anne ducked, hands flailing to prevent the disaster from happening.

Relief washed through her as her fingers found solid grip on the bouquet, but it was quickly washed away by a wave of cold dread.

She could distantly hear bird noises and bees buzzing, but the world around her had grown silent.

‘Oh, of course the youngest catches it!’ cried a woman behind her.

Anne straightened up. She’d caught the bouquet.

_Don’t look up._

_Don’t look around._

_People are watching you, don’t let them see this means anything to you._

‘Nice catch. I thought it would’ve flown further’, Georgiana muttered.

‘Would have, had I thrown better’, Esther said, her chest still shaking from contained laughter.

‘Now, you shouldn’t be surprised’, Esther said, looking at Anne.

The meaningful look in Esther’s gaze flew over Anne’s head.

‘How should I have known you were a bad thrower?’

Esther rolled her eyes.

‘The one who catches it is _supposed_ to marry next. Think.’

Oh.

It was the most subtle way Esther could have put it.

Of all the women gathered behind Esther, she probably was the only one who knew for a fact her affections were returned, and a marriage a possible future.

‘Whatever does that mean?’

‘That I’m excited to marry, of course’, Anne smiled.

Georgiana rolled her eyes.

‘Still romanticizing love, I see.’

‘I already told you I don’t romanticize it. I’ll heed your warnings. Wait until an offer of marriage will be made before you attach yourself too much. Remember men are dangerous. Ensure they’re not after my money or status. I know’, Anne smiled, believing that it would flatter and satisfy Georgiana if she showed she remembered their conversation.

‘That’s all I can hope for I guess, if you’re still determined to marry young. Personally, I think I’ll enjoy my wealth and myself for some time, before I sign anything over to a man. If possible, I’ll remain unmarried until I’m at least twenty-one. Then I don’t need a guardian anymore. How sweet it’ll be to be completely free. A free woman of means, who doesn’t owe an explanation to any man. Free to do as she likes without anyone holding her back’, Georgiana nodded.

‘Good thing you didn’t catch the bouquet then’, Anne smiled.

Georgiana’s face soured, before she smiled. ‘I guess. Love is nice, but right now I’m not interested in paying the price.’

‘Alright’, Anne shrugged, picking a pretty rose from the bouquet and giving it to Charlotte.

‘You deserve some happiness. You have too pretty a smile to look sad.’

The girl’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, but it did manage to elicit a smile.

‘Oh, oh how romantic’, fawned the twin girls Georgiana disliked.

‘Do you already have a man in mind?’ said one Miss Beaufort.

‘I’m sure it’ll be a perfect London gentleman’, sighed the other.

Anne gave each of them a flower.

‘Here. Figure we could all use some luck in love.’

‘Sharing the luck, how unorthodox’, Esther smirked.

‘Don’t have to hog all of it, do I. Oh, you don’t mind I took flowers out of your bouquet, do you?’

Esther looked at the girls running away, giggling and smiling and waving their roses, and Charlotte walking away quietly.

‘Excuse me’, Georgiana said before going after her.

‘No, they’ll be wilted by tomorrow anyways. At least now they made multiple people smile’, Esther shrugged with a soft smile.

Her brown eyes slid to somewhere over Anne’s shoulder.

‘Oh bugger.’

‘Sister. I have someone here who dearly wished to meet you. This is Mrs. Campion, my good friend Sidney’s fiancée.’

‘Oh’, Anne said with a smile that went not a bit beyond the necessary politeness.

If Georgiana’s attitude towards her didn’t tell her enough, her brother’s tense smile told her ten times more than she needed to know.

‘Yes, I’ve been dying to meet you. I heard so much about you.’

‘Did you, from who?’

‘Oh, all the ladies in London are excited about you. I heard you were to finally join us big ladies the coming year?’

‘I’m already out.’

‘Yes, of course. I know. But you haven’t been to London a lot, have you?’

‘Haven’t had the pleasure.’

‘And a pleasure it is. London is a marvellous place for ladies like us. It’s always so… alive. Towns like these get too dreary and boring in the the colder seasons. Ladies like us need a little more diversions. Don’t we?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Oh, but what droll things I say. How can you know? You’re so young still.’

Anne really understood everyone’s hate for her now. Like many who married into wealth, she felt like she had gained superiority over others. It was clear just who she counted under the “ladies like us”. And she also felt like the woman looked down upon her for her age. It was all meant to sound warm and soothing, but it was far from it.

‘I do hope I know some things already, since I spent some weeks in London this winter, and spent parts of the previous and current summer there as well’, Anne smiled prettily. ‘I suppose I haven’t been fortunate enough to move in the same circles as you, Mrs. Campion. But I did have a good time at some of the parks, balls and theatres already. Didn’t we, Esther?’ asked Anne.

Mrs. Campion paled. Anne’s circles would evidently be above hers, and it was clear she disliked the taste of her own medicine.

‘Well we certainly kept busy. I feared I’d find London perfectly boring, but you, Miss Lambe and Miss Heywood prevented that from happening. As long as you’ll be there to make the season bearable, I suppose I won’t mind being dragged along by my dear representative of a husband.

‘You went to London?’ Mrs. Campion asked of Esther in surprise.

‘Yes, my aunt and I went to arrange the wedding. And we took along Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe. Lady Anne was already there. And all of us will go again this winter.’

‘You’ll invite your friends over? How kind of you. It must be quite diverting for such young ladies from such rural backgrounds.’

‘Actually Lady Susan invited Miss Heywood and Miss Lambe is a rich heiress herself’, Esther announced, lifting her chin expecting Mrs. Campion to falter.

‘Why would she inv- I mean. Oh yes, I remember. I saw them talking at the regatta here, over two months ago.’

Anne wished her fiancé would be here. Certainly if Mr. Parker heard his future wife speak in such a way, he would no longer wish to marry her? She was incredibly rude.

Mrs. Campion was now desperate to guide the conversation in a cheerful direction. Her eyes fell onto the bouquet in Anne’s hands.

‘Good job catching those flowers.’

‘Thank you, just lucky I guess.’

‘Oh, to be young. I always loved standing there, feeling the excitement of who is going to catch it. But you’ll have to practice some patience, this is just a rural village filled with country boys’, the woman laughed.

Anne did not wish to belong to whatever elite club Mrs. Campion believed herself and Anne to be part of. Her brother had found his wife here. And Mr. Crowe was still wandering the premises somewhere.

‘Didn’t you find your fiancé between these country boys, Mrs. Campion?’ Anne asked.

‘So I did. And now there are none left. Oh well, the early bird catches the worm they say’, Mrs. Campion laughed.

‘Congratulations, Mrs. Campion. When will the marriage be?’

The woman awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

‘Oh we plan quite an elaborate wedding, I won’t be able to work out all the details before autumn comes around. And I don’t want a rainy cold wedding. I’ll have to wait until Spring next year at the earliest, I’m afraid.’

Anne had never heard so many I’s roll from someone’s lips when they discussed a wedding, and very few we’s. Weddings were supposed to be formalities, small and quick affairs, over before two past noon. While she personally preferred to be surrounded by her loved ones, and share her happiness, she was more than alright with finding a happy medium between what she wanted and her fiancé wanted. She couldn’t imagine waiting over eight months to marry once she’d been asked. She’d been taught a long engagement was almost never a good sign, unless the engaged people were poor and working to earn money.

Even the wealthiest people of the land married quickly, sometimes with barely any witnesses and no breakfast at all, like the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire.

‘How exciting’, Anne smiled.

‘Yes, I know it’ll be just splendid. You’ll all be invited, of course, being the family of one of my husband’s friends.’

‘We can’t wait’, smiled Esther sweetly.

‘Well, till in London’, Mrs. Campion concluded.

The ladies said goodbye to each other.

‘I think I’ll be leaving now’, Esther informed her.

‘Yes. I supposed you might want that. You’ve got a three hour ride up ahead. If you leave now you might still have an hour or three to see the grounds by daylight. And you do need to see them. The woods, the planes, the pool, the gardens. Everything beyond the gate building is stunning. Beauty created by centuries upon centuries of the best landscaping artists and house architects England has to offer.’

‘You’re raising my expectations worryingly high.’

‘Oh, our estate will deliver. I’m very confident.’

A corner of Esther’s mouth quirked up.

‘I do hope so. Although it’s too late for me to get back on my decision in case I am disappointed.’

‘Luckily for you, there’s no risk of feeling that way. I’ve lived there my whole life, and have yet to tire of it.’

As if he heard his home was being discussed, her brother reappeared.

‘I was just telling Esther about how magnificent she’ll find her new home’, Anne declared.

‘Did you? Are you excited, my dear?’

‘So excited I could faint’, she jested.

‘Well, it will make the trip seem shorter’, her brother shrugged good-naturedly.

‘I suppose I’ve done my duty, smiled prettily for everyone. Did my rounds. Now it’s about time I sit down, before my feet start blistering in these shoes. Do yourself a favour, Anne, and don’t go for the pretty shoes because you’ll only wear them once. Nobody will see them under your dress anyways, they might as well be comfortable.’

Anne couldn’t help but giggle.

Esther looked quite satisfied by her scandalous bit of honesty, but her brother was determined to one up her, and offered her a foot massage without blushing. Her new sister was only lost for a couple of seconds, before she told him she’d take him up on his offer, turning on her heels with Lord Babington in tow.

Alone.

She took a deep sniff of the flowers. They still smelled amazingly sweet and fresh, although they didn’t look as proud anymore as they’d done during the service.

Turning a corner so she was out of the public eye, she allowed herself to get lost in her daydream.

She tightened and loosened her fingers around the bouquet, looking at the bouquet as if it were her own.

Was this what being a bride felt like?

Her eyes fluttered to the church doors, and she was giddy with amusement when she took a step forward.

She definitely felt a nervous flutter in her belly.

She took another solemn step forward.

She felt regal, walking so slowly, feeling her dress trail behind her as it dragged across the grass.

She was grace.

She was the bride.

She blinked at the closed doors of the church.

She’d caught the bouquet.

Who knew when she would stand in front of her very own pair of church doors?

It was just superstition, catching a bouquet didn’t bring you any closer to marrying, but she couldn’t help hoping it wouldn’t be _that_ long. Preferably less than a full year until she was formally asked. And less than two before she was married.

She tried to imagine Alexander standing behind those doors, at the end of the aisle.

She imagined him standing at the end of the aisle, in the handsome blue coat he wore today, but for some reason she could only imagine him with a frown.

He did frown an awful lot.

Frowning and only lifting one part of his mouth when he smiled, as if it was a crime to laugh.

She shook her head, she smiled just thinking about him.

There was objectively little about Alexander Crowe that could be called sweet and endearing, yet thinking about him always managed to make her smile and her tummy flutter.

She shook her head, thinking about him always made her feel so very young and silly.

‘May I know the source of your amusement?’ a low male voice enquired.

‘Oh, I was laughing at how silly it was of me to believe I’d find some privacy over here, so far away from the party’, Anne quickly replied as she turned towards Mr. Crowe.

His face was soft now, his features relaxed and his skintone even and even glowing by his standards. She was still amazed by how clear his eyes were now. His hair looked shinier too.

She wondered how he’d look if he felt even better still.

‘I too seek out church doors when I desire private. They’re such tranquil desolate places, don’t you think?’ he grinned sardonically.

‘Just so, Mr. Crowe’, she smiled sweetly.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of becoming annoyed. She knew he always sought to rile people.

He turned towards the door, giving it a good frown as if it had personally insulted him.

‘Thought you weren’t in a hurry to wed?’

‘Well, you can either assume it’s a case of female capriciousness and believe I changed my mind or you can believe that I agreed to wait but still look forward to marrying. After all, I did catch the bouquet, it makes one think.’

‘Didn’t take you for a superstitious one.’

‘This comes from a man who once accused me of being a fairy?’

‘I never accused. Accused sounds so negative. I meant it as a compliment’, Mr. Crowe shot back with a frown.

She was lost for words for a couple of seconds. She did enjoy their banter. She rarely felt so at ease around a man.

‘About compliments, that blue coat does look very well on you.’

‘Does it now? Well, I wore blue to match with a certain someone, but she appears to have taken her blue coat off. Now I am unmatched, a lone wolf in his periwinkle coat.’

Anne bit her lip, looking down at her long white gloves and her white dress. She should have put on a blue chemise to shine blue underneath the thin fabric of her dress, but she’d chosen a pink slip to match with her mother.

‘I hadn’t expected it would be so hot today.’

‘You’re lucky you woman are dressed in a dozen layers, many of which you can take off. Us men just have to sweat it out.’

‘The price of beauty and fashion are great indeed’, Anne sympathized ironically.

‘You devil, you’re enjoying our suffering.’

‘Me? You dare accuse me of such a thing? Sir, that’s most insulting.’

She managed to keep a straight face talking, but cracked up seconds after. But his sour charade broke as well, and soon he was smiling as he watched her laugh.

His golden doublet looked to be a bit tight. She’d noticed many of his doublets did lately. The question was whether that had always been the case, or whether she was only now giving attention to his stomach area for… reasons… that she could not name.

But his face had grown softer as well. Perhaps he had gained weight. She’d known him long enough to know that he never ate much at dinner, he was always more busy drinking and talking, but lately she had seen him eat more.

‘You insult me of insulting you?’

‘Precisely.’

When had they grown closer together?

She could almost breathe in his scent. Citrus.

His hand was on her elbow.

She suddenly became aware of the dangerous game they were playing.

‘Why did you come here?’ she forced herself to say. Her voice came out weak. Why had she suddenly lost her breath?

‘Thought someone ought to keep an eye on you. Many bachelor men around. A pretty and rich young lady needs someone to make sure her honour stays intact.’

‘Ever so kind, Mr. Crowe. However may I reward my noble saviour?’

‘Anne.’

The tensity between them made her nervous. She suddenly became desperate to get rid of the atmosphere between them.

‘Hmm I know!’ she said quickly.

‘For luck and love’, she smiled as she waved a white flower in front of him before tucking it away in his breast pocket where it couldn’t be seen.

‘Bestowing flowers like a proper medieval princess, am I your knight, my lady?’

‘Perhaps if you fight one of those apparently dangerous bachelor men from around here for me’, she teased.

Her hand was still on his chest.

Oh.

She guessed he had noticed as well.

She noticed his great hand rising, and coming up to cover hers.

Oh dear.

Hadn’t they agreed on not doing this?

She felt they were going to do it.

‘But… the people… they might…’

‘Bugger them.’

She didn’t really feel like protesting.

Protest against something you want to do is quite hard, she mused.

‘Reputation’, she muttered silently, the protest dying on her lips.

‘If anyone has the audacity to question it I’ll marry you.’

She thought he wanted to wait. Was she wrong? Had he changed his mind? Was he alright?

His lips ghosted right above hers. Her eyes slipped shut.

He did smell lovely.

And he was indeed hot, literally. Her second hand had crept up of its own volitation and rested against his neck.

There was something entirely reckless and thrilling about doing something they shouldn’t, in a place where they risked being discovered.

She didn’t know how it felt to break the law or do something she shouldn’t, and her first venture into reckless territory had her drunk on excitement.

His lips were soft, not chapped as they had been after his feverish episode.

His hands were hot against her back.

More warmth, she desired more warmth.

He owned her lips.

Stole her breath.

Shattered and rebuilt her heart.

All in one kiss.

Her insides burned like they did when she went underwater for too long. But this wasn’t painful like that, instead it felt delicious.

He’d been holding out on her. This was even better than before.

She would have to ask Esther whether kisses always felt the same. Because if they did, she couldn’t imagine how people ever stopped doing it.

‘You’re thinking’, he muttered.

She couldn’t even blush, only laugh against his lips.

‘I wonder how people ever stop with this’, she admitted.

‘They progress’, he smirked before kissing her.

‘Progress into wh-‘ she decided it would be better not to finish that sentence.

He let out a single chuckle.

His fingers were on her neck now, tilting her head up for a better angle, kissing her even more roughly than he had before. She couldn’t even bring it in herself to mind the roughness. She relished in it.

He’d always struck her a loose projectile barely contained by society’s rules. In fact, it was a well established fact that rules had no meaning to him if he found them nonsensical, and that he wasn’t in the habit of governing himself or fashioning himself into some polite stiff man he was not. His honesty and lack of airs had always drawn her, as had his passion when he discussed certain topics. Now that passion was aimed at her.

She was without breath, he’d tugged on her hair. She swore that had been an unpleasant sensation once, when her maids brushed it and the brush caught on a snarl. She wondered why it felt so good now. It made her tingle.

She was floating, and when he left her lips, she struggled to come back down to earth. But once she did, she hit it with brutal force.

Shame, embarrassment, and a keen sense of having done something she shouldn’t have all hit her at once. She felt dirty and wanton and all things proper young ladies shouldn’t be.

‘I wanted to do that since forever.’

‘Couldn’t have been longer than a month’, she brought out, still gasping for breath. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn’t even know how to vocalize her confusion and feelings.

‘Why? Oh, yes. Our last kiss.’

‘Thought we weren’t going to do it anymore until we were engaged?’ Anne asked once she refound her composure. She quickly put a smile on her face, that always softened her words.

‘That was the intention. Suppose I’m just weak, seeing you every day is just too tempting.’

‘Flatterer. You were able to resist on other days. Wasn’t I pretty enough then?’

‘Watch it. You’re more than pretty enough.’

‘Then what is it?’ 

She knew something was up, saw it in how he was carefully picking his words and awkwardly repositioning his feet every couple of seconds.

He fell back against the oaken doors, looking at the sky instead of her.

‘Babbers will soon leave this place.’

‘Yes, any minute now.’

‘And then so will you.’

She nodded.

‘Take it neither of you will be back in London before the end of September?’

‘Didn’t plan on it, no.’

She was sorry to miss him for over a month and a half. She’d grown very accustomed to seeing him from breakfast till bedtime.

‘A true test of character, seeing if I’ll make it without nannies looking after me making sure I don’t ruin my life’, he joked.

‘You never ruined your life.’

‘No? What would you call it?’

‘Ever saw a castle ruin? You can’t fix a ruin. You never ruined anything, you still have endless possibilities, didn’t get thrown out of anything, no debts, nothing you can’t fix. You can only say you mismanaged your life.’

‘Anyways.’

But she understood. He tried to laugh it off, but he hadn’t been alone since Babington carried him into their home over a month ago. It must be scary to go back. Already during their short amount of time together, it had become clear how freely alcohol flowed everywhere, and how little non-alcoholic beverages there were. It was certainly a challenge, so soon after his decision. It might test his resolve.

‘Don’t you have another friend?’

‘Parker, yes. Not really keen on telling him about my silly little plan to follow our religious zealots and pour water into my wine, but we did plan on hiding together.’

‘Hiding?’

‘He wants to be away from his brother and away from his fiancée as much as possible.’

The mystery of Sanditon thickened. She had only ever heard about it as the place where her brother and Esther had fallen in love. But upon her arrival she’d seen some burned terraces, heard about a girl getting her heart broken here, and her new sister-in-law didn’t appear to be very sorry to leave the place. Just what had happened here? And what made a man want to avoid his family?

‘So you aren’t sold on this Mrs. Campion either?’

‘Heavens no. When I first got here late May, I thought that there were only three girls of standing around here. That new sister of yours, Miss Heywood, and Miss Lambe. The only ones born into wealth and a good family. If I had to rank it, I thought Miss Lambe would get married first, purely because of her wealth and character, I can really appreciate her humour and mean comments. And Miss Heywood looked to be quite lively too. But no, Babbers picked Denham, and Sidney picked his old fiancée. Couldn’t believe it. Any idea how near to ruin he was when she first broke his heart? I’d see my brother in debtor’s prison, before going back to her. Or I’d at least sail around the world looking for a miracle solution for months before agreeing to marry a wealthy woman to fix it.’

She barely understood half of his explanation, but decided now wasn’t the time to ask.

‘I don’t like her either.’

‘Strong feeling, coming from you.’

‘You know, I’m not always as gentle and sweet as you believe me to be?’

‘Believe me, I knew there was some steel underneath that smile the second I met you’, he grinned before standing up straight.

‘Right, we better head back. Separately of course.’

‘Right’, she agreed unhappily.

He looked back to her, gaze flickering towards her lips.

‘Last moment we’ll have in quite some time.’

‘And no writing to each other either’, she sighed.

‘Hey.’

His thumb and index finger grasped her chin.

‘I have no doubt you’ll be so busy doing fun things and giggling with other girls you’ll barely have time to miss me at all.’

‘And you will have a lot of time on your hands to think about me?’

‘I’d rather not. Don’t enjoy playing the part of lovesick romantic hero.’

‘Don’t worry, you’re definitely more the Byronic type.’

‘Tease.’

His lips were against hers again.

‘Another kiss?’

‘We’ve already broken the rule, what’s one more or less?’

She hesitantly lifted a hand to his cheek. His cheek was still smooth, but the texture felt funny. She’d never felt shaven cheeks. She’d imagined they would just feel like hers, but they didn’t.

‘So this is goodbye?’

‘For now.’

There was nothing wrong with admitting to herself she was a bit sorry that no engagement followed after the kiss. She almost wished they had been found by someone, then he would have proposed.

‘Goodbye, Alexander.’

The third kiss of the day was as breath-taking as the first, but its taste was bitter due to the knowledge it was their final one for over a month, or even longer, and would be followed by a long separation. She wished it would never end, but of course it did.

The sun still shone, yet she felt incredibly cold as she walked back to the tables.

Esther and John had just boarded the carriage. She put on a big smile. She could still be happy for them.

Waving them goodbye, she wondered when it would be her turn.

She’d had a taste of love, and it tasted like more.

She only wished there was something she could do to help murder the little devil on Alexander's shoulder.

She would see, in Autumn, what she could do.


	23. Life's a gamble (Georgiana POV)

Georgiana Lambe did not like doubting.

Actually, she’d always been full of resolve, and full of plans.

In Antigua, she’d never been idle. Always planning to visit a friend here or there, or she’d been in her classes.

If she saw a philosopher, she decided whether he was full of crap or full of light within a matter of hours, and she believed she always knew whether a person was good or bad in just as much time.

It appeared she’d left those two traits overseas.

Arriving in England, she’d barely had a thing to do, and no one to see. She’d found friends in London, people from oversees like her. But her guardian had torn her from them.

And her judgement had failed her many a time. First with Sidney, then with Otis.

And now, she wasn’t sure whether she could ever be certain of a man again.

It was unfortunate that she was human, and therefore fell in love. And it was unfortunate that she wanted the life she felt she deserved. The normal life any wealthy young girl was entitled to in England, if she were white. But she wasn’t white, and men were predators, so there was naught to do but remain single if she didn’t want to be used.

The irritating thing is, once you get one thing wrong, you’re afraid to get another wrong. Even if there is no logical reason at all for it.

‘Ah, Miss Lambe.’

‘Mr. Parker.’

‘I hope you’re not too sorry about missing the bouquet?’ the jolly man asked.

‘Not really intending to marry soon anyways’, she shrugged.

‘That makes two of us.’

At least there was no doubt to Arthur’s intentions. He was as delightfully transparent as a window.

‘Hmm. Whatever are two happily single people to do for the remainder of summer?’

‘Well, to be quite frank, trying to keep another brother single.’

Her eyes shot up to the man.

He was looking ahead with a pained expression. Following his gaze, she saw Mrs. Campion clutching onto Sidney’s arm with a sickeningly sweet smile while he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but by her side.

‘You’ve got my attention. Thwarting an evil witch? Can I join in?’

‘You? Whatever for?’ the man asked in surprise but not unhappily.

Georgiana grinned. There were so many reasons.

Mrs. Campion treated her unfairly and was annoying beyond belief. She didn’t wish to see even more of her, which she undoubtedly would if she married Sidney.

And, despite that Sidney was a proper arse and the person responsible for dragging her halfway across the world from all she knew and loved, she had come to appreciate the effort he’d gone to to keep her safe. She could help him be just a little less miserable.

Lastly, even though she didn’t get Charlotte’s attraction to him, she knew her best friend was in love with him. And if there was a way to get rid of Mrs. Campion and make her friend smile again, she’d do it.

‘Oh, I have my reasons. The better question is why you would be against it, given that her money is saving your family’s ass from Lady Denham’s wrath?’

‘I don’t believe in making my brother unhappy for eternity to fix a temporary problem. His engagement managed to ensure Lady Denham’s cooperation, but since they’re not marrying any time soon, I feel I now have the time to find a better solution.’

‘To find, so you haven’t found one yet? Is it wise to break up your brother and Mrs. Campion without another solution present?’

‘Well, what I meant with trying to keep another brother single was… well… trying to find a way to keep him so. The engagement will stay in place until a solution is found. I don’t think I could convince Sid to drop the engagement unless I offered a very seductive alternative’, Arthur laughed.

In the distance, she could see Babington helping Esther into the carriage.

‘You know, I do wonder why his friends didn’t help him out. Aren’t they rich?’

‘I don’t believe he told them. He’s quite private, you know?’

‘He doesn’t even explain his thoughts to people when it concerns them’, Georgiana said as she rolled her eyes. ‘Trust me, I know.’

‘But to be honest, I’ve also thought about his friends. And, I couldn’t help it, you.’

‘Me?’ she asked, taking a step back.

Perhaps she’d been wrong letting her guard down around Arthur.

‘Yes, well. Tom said he owed the bank more than all four of us had, combined. And the banks wouldn’t give us any more loans. Now, I do understand why he wouldn’t tell his friends. They’d feel obliged to give him money. While he probably, and perhaps correctly, fears they’ll never see their investments back. I would feel guilty too, for asking to use money without any guarantee of being able to give it back. For example, as your guardian, he could have easily used your money, but he didn’t either.’

‘So?’ Georgiana asked warily.

‘So then I got thinking that perhaps instead of asking for money, we should ask to make money.’

‘Wasn’t the whole reason your family went bankrupt because Tom Parker thought he could turn piles of sand into gold?’

‘Yes. But won’t Mr. Crowe and Lord Babington have a lot of business contacts? And don’t you perhaps know a couple of people across the sea?’

‘Perhaps I do, what of it?’

‘Well. If we could, perhaps, instead of making Sanditon a resort, make it into a port, a centre of commerce, then we would make profits? And you know… I once read that cities rose there where there was a lot of commerce. So perhaps the city and Tom’s dream will just grow naturally?’

‘To be a good port, we either need to be a harbour closest to the sea, or the one that’s most inland, don’t we? We’re not Pembroke, Swansea, Cardiff or Bristol. And those all have quite big ones, relatively nearby’, Georgiana pointed out.

‘But all those ports go up North or to the East. Who provides Somerset? There’s many large roads by land nearby. It wouldn’t take a lot of money to create decent roads from the port to the main roads to Wells, Glastonbury, Taunton and so on.’

‘But why wouldn’t they go to Bridgwater? They’re more inland, and have both rivers and land roads?’

‘Actually, Bridgwater is older than Sanditon, but not really that big yet. Its closest neighbour is Taunton, but last I heard the river isn’t broad or deep enough to be very useful for commerce. And I was thinking, if Sidney, Mr. Crowe and Lord Babington chose to let the ships dock here, when they’re doing commerce with the West, instead of Bristol as they now do, a lot of their stuff can be sold here. Or they could let it be delivered here. If say more exotic things were delivered, people do travel good distances for exotic goods. Of course, London is more sensible if they buying or selling things in Europe, Africa or India. London also has a bigger market for exotic goods. Yet, Bath isn’t far. And neither is Badminton house, where I believe Lord Babington and Miss Denham live.’

Georgiana chewed on her cheek as she mulled it all over.

‘Perhaps I’m just being ridiculous’, he laughed awkwardly.

‘I suppose it all comes down to who has the easiest port and the best access to the inland. I doubt we’ll be able to get people from Bath to order from Sanditon, but it could work.’

‘It could?’

‘My father owned the plantation in Antigua, you know. I do know the current owner quite well. And sugary confectionaries are quite popular nowadays, especially if the sugar isn’t created with slave labour.’

‘Yes, yes so I heard!’ Arthur smiled.

‘Perhaps your original idea of making Sanditon alluring isn’t enough. But if say, we got a couple of influential people to prefer the sugar, coffee, cotton and colorant from certain deliverers above others, we could create a market for goods we supply. Then those influential people would use our goods, and their friends would start buying our goods as well. And then we have a market. Then it wouldn’t matter where we are located, as long as we’re able to deliver it from Sanditon.’

Arthur nodded enthusiastically.

‘Actually, we don’t even need to make the ships dock in Sanditon. Sanditon doessn’t matter at all. As long as Sidney is the one arranging the deals and deliveries with his little company existing of himself, Mr. Crowe and Lord Babington, the money goes straight to him. He doesn’t need a rich wife if he’s rich himself. And Sanditon doesn’t need to gain money as long as Sidney does. Actually, that’s a better idea since then we don’t need to invest in Sanditon first before we can gain money’, Georgiana reasoned.

‘Yes, that’s true. But actually, I thought of Sanditon becoming a port so it could become self-sustainable. Because the thing is… Tom…’

‘Will keep spending money, so he has to earn money as well, or he’ll just keep using borrowed money’, Georgiana reasoned.

‘Yes. I thought if the town made money, Tom would use that first, instead of getting loans.’

‘Has it crossed your minds to just pull Tom Parker out of business? From what I gathered, his negligence hurt workers, didn’t pay people for months, and he neglected important costs like insurances. And he can’t govern his finances. That’s a disaster for an entrepreneur. He lacks every quality an entrepreneur and city leader needs.’

‘But he has a vision.’

‘A vision alone won’t bring a city alive. A child is full of ideas as well, yet we don’t let a child lead a project.’

Arthur tightened his lips.

‘I suppose I can’t say much to that.’

‘Please, whatever we do to help Sidney. It won’t be of much use if Tom keeps spending.’

‘He promised…’

‘Promises mean nothing!’ Georgiana cried.

‘Do you have any idea what my father promised me? What others promised me? Promises are empty words until they have been carried out.’

‘I’ll believe Tom Parker when you give me reason to believe him. Has he ever promised this before?’

‘Well’, Arthur began.

‘Has he, once before, said he wouldn’t loan. Or would be careful about his spending. Or promise to pay someone, without doing so afterwards?’ Georgiana specified.

‘Well. Most times when he promises something he does it, like paying his workers, but…’

‘But?’

‘Then he does it and then he stops again.’

‘Arthur, you have no reason to trust him. Stop trusting him just because he is your brother.’

‘Well what can I do?’

‘Yes, what _can_ you do?’ she shot back.

‘He has the power to ruin all of you. And he has made all of you work for Sanditon. So surely, there must be something you can do to influence him. He can make you and Sidney do things easily enough.’

‘But he’s a grown man. My oldest brother. I don’t have any rights…’

‘So you should just let him ruin you? And his children?’

‘There’s no reason to believe he would want to ruin me. That’s why I make plans so we are all saved and he has money to spend.’

‘He almost did, not even two months ago, and he had money. He spent it on the wrong things’, Georgiana pointed out.

‘But he didn’t expect a fire.’

‘And did him not expecting a fire make the fire any less damaging? If I stab someone by accident, they’ll still be dead, and I’ll still get charged with murder’, Georgiana huffed.

‘I’ll talk to Mary. I feel that we need to get her in.’

‘A wise idea’, Georgiana decided.

The new Lady and Lord Babington were about to leave. Georgiana slowly meandered towards the mass of people.

‘Did you have any plans of your own for the remainder of summer, Miss Lambe?’ Arthur asked as he followed her. He was determined to end the conversation on a happy note, it was clear.

‘Oh, the same plans as always. Be a menace to Mrs. Griffiths, avoid those dreaded twins with zero personality and…’

What was Mr. Crowe doing in the front of the church? That man had not been the same since that one strange night in London. He’d looked awfully on edge, had as well on the night of Anne’s birthday. Now was the first time she’d seen him walk confidently in weeks.

Perhaps he’d been smoking, she reasoned, away from where it would insult some old woman’s delicacies.

Her eyes were pulled back by a flurry of pink against a green backdrop.

‘Well I’ll be…’, she muttered as Anne skipped from behind the church, inconspicuously rushing to the carriage to kiss her brother and Esther goodbye while Mr. Crowe went back to the tables to fetch his drink.

Was he the one she’d been talking about when she’d talked about love? The drunk? And here she thought she herself had low standards with gambling addicts. Charlotte, her and Anne should found an “In love with stupid men” club. Pride, greed and gluttony. All of them had fallen for men who committed capital vices. Esther could be a honorary member, with that lustful waste of space called Edward Denham she’d once loved.

Arthur stumbled against her as she halted.

‘What is it, Miss Lambe?’ asked Arthur.

‘Nothing’, Georgiana muttered.

Well wishes were being shouted as the carriage wheels cracked and the horses spurred into action.

The coach drove away, leaving behind a crowd of waving people.

Neither leaned out of their window to look back and wave.

They didn’t mind what they left behind. Why would they, when they had such fun to look forward to?

Perhaps there was a good reason why Esther was the happy one out of them all. She left behind the bad man and picked a new one.

Was that the solution?

Didn’t it leave out the possibility that a man could change and grow?

Otis had promised he would change and better himself.

And she had seen a change in Sidney.

Perhaps.

But then she remembered the conversation she’d just had with Arthur. She’d just told him not to believe his brother’s ability to change.

And why did she have to wait for a man to change? Why couldn’t she have one that was good right now?

And how long did she have to wait for that to happen? Clearly, there were still good men out there. Esther had found one.

And as Charlotte pointed out, their fathers were pretty alright.

See, there was the doubt again. Awful thing, doubt.

Her thoughts slid to other good examples.

And then there was…

No.

Although, wasn’t it right?

Who worked on his future every day?

Who saw rich people, but was free of envy?

Who accepted reality the way it came and was prepared to make an effort climbing up, instead of gambling every day waiting for a miracle to happen?

Who was kind and honest?

Surely, there was nothing wrong with admitting James Stringer was one of the few good men out there.

As was Arthur.

Two very sweet single men who were able to make her laugh and enjoy herself despite that she woke up every morning unhappy?

Yet then why did she feel guilty thinking of Mr. Stringer as a good man, while she didn’t feel guilty thinking of Arthur as a good man?

No, no. She wouldn’t dwell on it today.

She had decided she would stay single for the near future. Why allow even a good man to hold her back?

‘If you don’t mind, I’m going to Charlotte.’

‘Oh no, I don’t mind at all. I’ll go to Sidney’, Arthur smiled.

‘Undoubtedly, I’ll see you soon.’

‘Yes, undoubtedly’, Arthur laughed.

‘Charlotte! Anne!’

Both girls spun around from where they’d been talking. They still stood where they’d been when the carriage left ten minutes ago.

‘So, are you two done sweating in this heat? The party is over anyways.’

‘What do you suggest?’ asked Anne.

‘Well, I just realized. I haven’t been swimming yet this summer.’

‘You haven’t?’ asked Charlotte in surprise. ‘But even I have!’

‘With who? I thought I was your best friend!’

‘You are! I just, well, it was before I knew you. Months ago. We went in the bathing machines.’

‘Ah yes, one of England’s clever machines. Back in Antigua, we just walked into the water. But ladies have to be delicate here’, Georgiana scathed.

‘Actually, that’s only partially true. When one has a private swimming pond, one can still run into the water, just like that’, Anne smiled.

‘A what… You have?’ Georgiana asked.

‘We do’, grinned Anne.

‘Granted, servants could see us, as could other male inhabitants of the house, but well. Family and servants shouldn’t look at women swimming, nor should they talk about it.’

‘And actually, in Willingden, children play in the river all the time. We have this riverbend where the water is quite shallow. It’s the perfect place for refreshing play in summer. Unfortunately, it’s only for children. Indeed, adults shouldn’t go down there.’

‘Luckily even this godforsaken place has at least some percentage of people still acting normal’, decided Georgiana.

‘Be that as it may. I believe I was about to ask the both of you to join me for a swim. The sun is at her highest, it’s the hottest time of day. I’d say we’d benefit from some cool water.’

‘Well, I heartily agree’, decided Anne.

‘I’m leaving tomorrow, so a final swim would be nice’, Charlotte admitted.

‘It’ll be my last swim of the year’, she smiled.

‘And mine, I’m not exactly eager to go swimming with the Beaufort twins.’

‘Oh, but it doesn’t have to be. You’re more than welcome to spend some time at the Babington Estate?’ Anne offered.

‘Thank you. But I feel I really can’t. I’ve been away from home since May. It’s been almost three months. Before the longest I was separated from my parents was a couple of hours. I feel they wouldn’t really like it if I came home only to leave just a week after. And I’ll already have to explain that they’ll have to miss me in winter.’

‘Actually, I have some plans here in Sanditon, but I might take you up on that offer’, Georgiana decided.

She would have to be here to work out a plan with Arthur, but afterwards, there was nothing stopping her from avoiding the Beaufort twins, Mrs. Griffiths and boredom as much as possible. Anne was not unpleasant.

‘Good. I’ll leave you my exact address. Now I can’t promise I’ll always be home to answer letters, but I don’t expect to be away from home for periods longer than a week’, Anne shared.

‘Where do you go then?’

‘Visit some friends. I’ve been away in France for the largest part of the year. I met some in London the past few weeks, saw some around the holidays, but I still have a list of people I haven’t seen for a year. I’d like to try and see all of them before the summer is over. It’s just so much easier to talk and laugh when you’re face to face. Letters just aren’t the same, you know?’ Anne asked.

‘I do.’

Oh, how Georgiana knew. There were friends she hadn’t written at all. And when she did write to her friends overseas, she had to wait months for letters to come back. She could just feel those friendships slipping from her fingers.

‘Yes, I’ll be glad to see my friends again back home’, Charlotte smiled.

‘I’ll say goodbye to everyone present and then we go?’ asked Anne.

‘I’ll tell Mrs. Parker’, Charlotte agreed.

‘And I guess I’ll tell Sidney and Mrs. Griffiths, before they suspect I have run off again’, Georgiana joked.

Georgiana kept an eye on Anne to confirm her suspicion, but the girl did not approach Mr. Crowe in particular to say goodbye. She only talked to a group existing of him, Sidney, Arthur and Tom Parker for a minute.

Perhaps it had just been a coincidence that they’d both been in front of the church.

And then the girls were off, laughing and talking. Anne talked some more about the wedding, but noticed quickly enough that the topic of marriage wasn’t talked about enthusiastically, so the conversation was switched to literature soon enough.

A bathing machine was ordered, they were loaded into it, and soon enough they were slowly being dragged through the sand as they put on their bright red outfits.

‘Are you not putting on your hat, Anne?’ asked Charlotte.

‘Actually, I don’t much care for clothes while swimming, it gets in the way. Of course some are needed for modesty but really, it feels divine to have your hair flowing about you like a mermaid. It’s always up all day. My head feels so sore at the end of the day when I let it loose. Don’t you ever have that?’

‘Actually, that’s exactly the reason why I dislike putting it up’, Charlotte admitted with a relieved smile.

‘I doubt any of you have even half the amount of pins pricking into your skull I do. All these stupid hairstyles aren’t meant for my type of hair’, Georgiana moaned.

‘Well, we’re amongst us girls now?’ Charlotte offered, tugging off her cap.

‘I’ll leave it up though. As annoying as the pins are, once my hair gets wet, it’s a disaster. It takes a whole day to tame it. And it’s dry enough as it is, I don’t need it pickled with salt. Even in Antigua I kept it up when I went swimming.’

‘A whole day?’

‘Washday is a day’, Georgiana smirked.

‘Surely, it takes a lot of time to wash it and comb it through, but that’s just some hours, right?’

‘No. There’s the washing, the oils, the sectioning and twisting it to dry, the walking around with a cap on for hours.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Yeah, you might have curls, but trust me. They’re different from mine.’

‘Here I was, envying men with their short routines and the short time it takes their hair to dry, I had no idea that my routine was easy too, compared to someone else.’

‘Well, you didn’t know. There aren’t many people around like me’, Georgiana smiled sourly.

‘Is that not… Lonely sometimes? To never see… well… Someone like yourself? I’m sorry, is that rude to ask?’

She was going to blow the easy carefree atmosphere. But she had longed to talk about it for so long, she just _had_ to. She never could hold back.

‘Actually, you’re the first one who asked. And yes, it is very lonely. I feel like a fish on the dry. An animal in a zoo. I don’t belong and everyone sees I don’t belong. They stare at me, but they don’t understand me. I sometimes wish there were more people like me. Then I wouldn’t feel so alone and foreign.’

‘Is there no way we can help with the loneliness?’

‘A little. As friends. But you’ll never be able to fill my need to see a face like mine. And I still feel foreign, even around the two of you. Because I have certain worries you’ll never have. And now you’re aware of one of the more superficial of them, and now you know, but you’ll never get it as someone like me does.’

Charlotte laid her hand on Georgiana’s and offered her a comforting smile. Unfortunately, Georgiana didn’t receive much comfort from it.

‘I felt more at home in London. There at least, there were at least some others. Not exactly like me, but different from the English as well. Call it being united by being different, a sort of solidarity because we know how it feels to be different, to be judged by others, and to adjust to a new strange place.’

‘Then why can’t you stay in London?’ Anne asked.

‘Well I did stay there for some months. But I might have given Sidney cause to belief I couldn’t be trusted in a big city alone. So he brought me here, under the eyes of Mrs. Griffiths.’

‘But you went to London just last month?’

‘Yes, under supervision.’

‘Perhaps you could make a permanent swap for London as long as you are being watched?’

‘Perhaps.’

But then that would be the end of seeing Arthur. Again readjusting. When could she ever settle somewhere and have it really be a home? Preferably a home that felt like a true home.

Carriage stopped.

Waves could be heard splashing against the wood. Somewhere above them, a seagull was shrieking.

It was time to leave the eternal feeling of being stuck in a too small cage behind her, just for a few hours.

She didn’t want to be different.

She didn’t want to be the girl with issues that was always angry at something.

She just wanted to be a girl.

And be young.

Georgiana flung open the door. In front of them, the wide blue green sea loomed, its waves gentle and glistening in the afternoon sun.

In the distance, the cliffs loomed, high and steep.

A rugged landscape for a rugged girl.

A future as far, distant and unknown as whatever land lay across the sea.

She sat down on her knees and dipped her hand in the water.

‘Or perhaps I’ll take the boat back to Antigua. Holy hell, this water is cold.’

Charlotte appeared beside her, sliding her fingers through the water.

‘Is it? It feels a lot warmer than it did back when I first took a dip.’

‘Warmer? Warmer than what? Ice? You English, I swear to God!’ Georgiana laughed.

‘The trick is not to feel first. Then you start doubting. Short pain. Take the plunge’, Anne suggested.

Rashness.

Georgiana could get behind that.

She had made up her mind she was going to swim today.

So she would swim.

What did the temperature matter?

She put her feet on the step down.

No doubt.

She jumped.

The cold was sharp and the salt stung her eyes and ruined the taste on her lips. But she could instantly feel giddy.

She’d just jumped!

She pushed herself away with her legs, bobbing along with the waves.

She could see the beach from here. She’d never seen it from this side, only from the other.

It felt good to be impulsive.

Good to do something that had given her joy in the past.

She’d thought she’d never swim again when she’d first arrived in England. But here she was.

She’d been afraid she wouldn’t know how to do it anymore.

She hadn’t forgotten how to.

‘Come on then!’ Georgiana cried at her friends.

Anne jumped in carelessly, going face first and slicing through a wave, coming up with her brown hair sticking to her face and shoulders like a water wraith from a painting. Charlotte jumped in more hesitantly, but with just as much of a smile.

It felt so good to be back in the sea, splashing water around at others and just swimming along with the waves.

Tomorrow both of her new friends would leave, but she still had today.

And she would make the most out of it.

Life was like gambling, you couldn't choose your cards, but you could make the most out of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bridgwater only became a big transport city during the Industrial Revolution. And the canal between Taunton and Bridgewater only opened in 1827, over a decade after Sanditon takes place.
> 
> So yeah, Anne’s and Georgiana’s conversation was covid inspired. I honestly feel like such a bad friend because I’m bad at checking up with people online. It’s just so much easier face to face. And this comes from me, an introvert, who before covid came around always felt taxed by having too much to do and too many people to see. Has anyone else discovered a sudden wild extroverted streak the past few months? Suddenly I find myself dying to dance in nightclubs until 3am and going to classes, attending group meetings and even simple stuff like attending real life classes. If anything it was good to make me appreciate the life I had before lol. 
> 
> Crystal Clarke once said that Sanditon was obviously made by white people who didn't really take the time to fully tackle everything it means to be black in a white-dominated society, especially in a 19th century society. I'm white, so obviously I'll never fully get it either, but I tried to at least show some more aspects. I found Georgiana hard to grasp. It took me a long time before I knew how I'd create her chapter. And I feel like most of my struggle was because Georgiana was, in my mind, reduced to a) a lovesick girl and b) an angry teenager. All in all, she didn't get that much screentime nor a lot to do. I tried throughout this story to flesh out her feelings and the character the Sanditon showrunners gave us. 
> 
> Personally, I'm really not a fan of Otis. But I did try to understand that for her, he was someone like her, who she felt understood by. And I imagine that must be quite rare for her in England. It's hard to let go of something when you fear you'll never get something else like it. 
> 
> But then I mean... There's one very good-meaning, honest, hardworking boy out there who deserves to be happy just as much as she does. And by this point there's no denying my love for the "hardened mistrusting woman falls for soft man ready for love" trope.
> 
> Okay anyway, end of blabbering.  
> Next up Charlotte, and then the wedding night. Whoop!


	24. No Regrets ( Charlotte POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to have this up by Wednesday as a kind of surprise two-day-in-a-row post. Then daydrinking happened so plan went bust. But today I managed eyyyy. If I'm lucky and my words don't abandon me, the wedding night will be up by the end of the weekend. But don't hold it against me if I fail. I have a busy weekend full of boring paperwork.

Charlotte wasn’t awoken by the summer sun radiating heat through her window as it had the past few months. Instead a soft knock from the maid alerted her that her final night in Sanditon had come to an end.

Perhaps the sun hid to ease the transition from the sunny seaside to the golden autumn countryside. Or perhaps she wasn’t allowed to enjoy her final day, but then there’d been little joy to find the past month. The sun had kept on shining, but her life felt a good deal darker than it had before.

At least she’d had yesterday afternoon. A precious few hours of seaside fun, a final dip in the salty water, and a last bit of laughter before she left. She was pretty certain there’d be no laughing today.

To honour her final day, she put on her sand coloured coat and bonnet. They weren’t very fine, but they were well suited for travel. And anyways, who was she trying to impress? Everybody knew she was just a country girl.

Mrs. Campion was right, she had been a naïve country girl, despite her father’s warnings.

He’d known. He’d tried warning her and she hadn’t heeded the warnings, thinking her love of philosophy and politics books would have saved her. She prayed her father wouldn’t say “told you so.”

But she didn’t feel bad about it anymore. There was nothing wrong with being from the country. There everyone had been honest, saying what they meant, hardworking, disciplined and kind. If it hadn’t been for so many examples showing her that city and seaside people could be good as well, she would’ve grown a very dualistic worldview. But the world wasn’t that simple.

It never had been. She’d just been lucky. There were good people and bad people everywhere. And there was no certain way to know who to trust by instinct. She had trusted Tom Parker, but he turned out to be constantly ruining his family with his ventures. And she had been interested but mistrusting of Sidney because he had been closed off and hostile, while he in fact had a warm heart. And then there were the charming Sir Edward and Mrs. Campion with easy smiles but cruel characters.

She’d learned.

She’d observed.

All those who’d seen more of the world than her wore masks so the vipers wouldn’t get too close to them. Esther, Georgiana, Sidney, Anne. They all knew how to keep people at bay and give false impressions. They didn’t let people close immediately. She’d tried adopting their techniques to keep the heartache out.

But here’s the thing, once the sadness is in you, putting on a mask won’t get it out. The only thing a mask did was keeping anyone from hurting your heart to easily a second time.

She allowed her tears to spill freely as she packed up for her travel home. She’d taken a lot to London, so a lot was still packed. But there were still a few items here.

Her first ballgown, some of her heavier coats and pelisses she hadn’t needed in London, some books.

She glanced around her room.

This was really it. It was amazing how used she’d become to waking up here, to this being her room. It would be strange to go back to her old home and sharing a bedroom with Alison and her second younger sister Beatrice again.

Would she ever gaze outside this window again?

Would she sleep on this bed again?

It all felt so precious now.

In this bed she’d dreamed of Sidney.

At this desk she’d written to her sister, teasing good news that never came true.

So much excitement had been felt in this room, and so much sadness. She’d never been so emotional before in her life.

She wiped her hand across her cheek and laid down on the floor to check if she hadn’t missed anything.

Oh.

There.

Under the bed. She dragged herself across the floor and reached out.

The blue shoes.

She gasped for breath, hot tears spilling anew.

They had been such a beautiful gift.

She could have become Mary’s sister-in-law had fate been kinder.

How she’d danced on these shoes. How she’d laughed. How she’d been heartbroken and confused after her first conversation with Sidney on that balcony!

She quickly stored them away in a hatbox.

She would be strong today. At least until she left.

She locked her luggage and sat down on the bed for a few more minutes.

Today she would be calm, kind and dignified. She would leave with her head held as high as when she’d first arrived.

She wouldn’t let her circumstances make a victim out of her.

And she wouldn’t become as jaded, cold and bitter as the others had.

Nobody deserved to be treated by hostility that wasn’t directed at them. Who would it serve if she acted unpleasantly? No, it was far better to pretend to be happier than she was. That way she would attract people to her and make people happy. Certainly, if she couldn’t be happy, it was good to try and make others happy?

She didn’t want anyone to worry for her when she left. They already had so much going on.

With a deep breath, and after assuring herself her eyes were dry, she went downstairs and had breakfast with Mary.

‘The coach will be ready for you by eleven dear. What will you do on your last morning?’ Mary asked with a feeble smile.

Charlotte could see she was pretending to be happy and positive as well.

‘Saying goodbye, I believe’, Charlotte smiled.

‘You’ll have to hurry then. I know you’ve made a lot of friends around here.’

‘Yes, everyone was very kind to me.’

‘No doubt we will all miss you.’

She wasn’t going to cry. She had to be glad for the memories she’d made and the moments she’d had, not be sad for what she was about to lose.

‘And I all of you’, Charlotte smiled.

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t cry.

A small victory.

As she walked through the streets, she passed the now empty house of the Stringer family.

Poor Mr. Stringer.

Poor James.

She could only be glad that by some stroke of fate he decided to take the position in London despite the tragedy. London had been the saving of her. The hustle and bustle of the city had offered her distraction from her pain she couldn’t have found in Sanditon. Here everything reminded her of Sidney. She could only imagine that if that was the case for her, it would especially be the case for James Stringer.

She made a small cross sign as she passed the tiny wooden house. She hoped that up there, Mr. Stringer would forgive his son for their fight and be happy that his son was pursuing his ambitions. He was such a good man. Honest, kind, and hardworking. He deserved success and happiness.

She was looking at the empty dusty windows so much, she didn’t notice the figure walking out of a door in front of her, and colliding straight with her.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon!’

‘Bugger. No it’s fine. I wasn’t – Oh, Miss Heywood.’

His hands shot out to steady Charlotte.

‘Mr. Crowe!’ Charlotte stuttered in surprise.

_Be kind and calm._

‘What brings you here so early?’ she smiled out as she regained her footing.

‘On my way to retrieve a friend.’

There was only one friend of his left in Sanditon.

Sidney.

‘He isn’t home’, Charlotte supplied helpfully.

‘Oh, I know. I know just where he is.’

‘You were not… with him?’

A dark look crossed the tall man’s face.

‘Wasn’t feeling like going to the tavern last night. No doubt the scotch kept him good company. They good some good brands there.’

‘Not that I’d know, but I’ll take your word for it’, she tried to smile.

A sardonic smile briefly lightened his features.

‘Not that you’d know. Yes. It’s not a loss not to know.’

Charlotte smiled awkwardly. Talking of alcohol was not her area of expertise, and she’d always kind of felt out of depth around Mr. Crowe, as much as she had with Sidney. Two unfathomable men.

He looked her over again, apparently taking notice of her dress.

‘You’re dressed for travel?’

‘Yes. I’ll be leaving in a few hours.’

‘As will I, postal coach to London. You’re going to…’

‘Willingden.’

‘Wherever that is’, he smirked.

She turned her head down.

Was he mocking her town or his own geographical knowledge?

‘Nowhere of importance.’

‘No doubt it’ll be better than this place.’

‘Sanditon is quite alright, Mr. Crowe.’

‘If you enjoy it here, I won’t stop you from liking it. Personally, I believe I’ll be far more comfortable in London, or perhaps every other small place in Somerset’, he smiled.

What was he hinting at?

‘In any case, that means this’ll be the last time I’ll see you. Miss Heywood.’

He bowed down and picked up her hand.

‘It has been a pleasure, mademoiselle. You were a delight and this place and London will be bleaker without you. Do let me know when you decide to visit either again. Have a good journey’, he said before pressing a kiss on her hand.

Charlotte quickly dipped into a curtesy.

‘Mr. Crowe. It was nice to learn to know you. However, I wouldn’t know how to reach you.’

‘You’re friends with Anne, uhm, pardon my manners, Lady Anne, aren’t you? And with Babbers’ wife. No doubt I’ll hear it from Babbers whenever you decide to grace a place with your presence.’

‘You’re too kind. But you are right, no doubt you’ll hear from them. I’ll be in London the coming season.’

‘As will we all, a most joyful reunion that’ll be’, he smirked.

‘Now, I’ll retrieve Parker so he can say goodbye to you at well.’

‘Oh, really, there’s no need.’

‘If I leave him there to rot any longer, he’ll shoot vines into the floor and get stuck, Miss Heywood. During daylight hours a man needs to at least pretend to be a gentleman. I’ll get him out and see him do his duty.’

‘If you say so. Have a good day and a safe trip, Mr. Crowe.’

Mrs. Griffiths welcomed Charlotte with an easy smile and brought her to Georgiana’s room.

‘Another friend for you, Georgiana!’

‘Marvellous, let her in.’

Georgiana was uncharacteristically fully dressed and seated on a chair, instead of in her bed with a novel. Charlotte put that miraculous turn entirely down to the presence of another elegantly dressed brunette in the room.

‘Charlotte!’

‘Miss Heywood!’

‘Sit down, we were just having tea, like proper English ladies’, Georgiana joked, lifting her pinkie as she drank from her teacup.

Charlotte sat down on another chair, as Georgiana poured her a cup. Her magnificent manes puffed freely around her head, constrained only by a headband.

‘No pins?’

‘No pins, feel delightful. I should have followed your example a lot sooner’, Georgiana smirked.

‘Anne just dropped by to give me her address’, Georgiana explained.

‘Will I give it to you as well?’ Anne offered with a smile. ‘I feel we got on quite well, I would like to receive your correspondence.’

‘Of course’, Charlotte brought out with a smile after taking a sip.

‘So, are you on your goodbye tour?’

‘I am. Not that it’s a big one. I already said goodbye to Mr. Stringer in London, and the Parkers are at home. So really, it’s only you. And Mr. Crowe I just happened to bump into on the streets.’

‘Him, up at this hour? Was he just exiting the tavern?’ Georgiana mocked.

Anne took a sip from her tea.

‘Actually, he was on his way towards it’, Charlotte explained.

‘What, really?’ asked Anne in surprise, her voice a bit louder than was comfortable.

‘Yes, to fetch Mr. Parker, he said’, Charlotte answered.

‘You’re awfully interested in Mr. Crowe’s whereabouts’, Georgiana said lightly before taking a sip from her tea.

‘A girl can wonder what brings a man to a tavern at nine thirty in the morning’, Anne shrugged with a smile.

‘If you say so. Anyways, so Sidney was in the tavern?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Probably drinking away his memories of that insufferable Mrs. Campion of yesterday’, Georgiana smirked.

‘You mustn’t say that’, Charlotte begged.

‘Why? It’s true, everyone could see he was unhappy.’

‘That’s the whole issue. He’s going to marry her. I rather he was happy, or at least would become so. I can’t bear the idea of good people being unhappy forever.’

‘Forever unhappy to fix his brother’s mistakes’, Georgiana said again.

‘Yes well, there’s little to be done, is there now?’ Charlotte shot back in annoyance.

‘Oh, Georgiana, where’s your paper? I’ll scribble down my address for dear Charlotte?’ Anne asked sweetly to pacify them.

Georgiana directed her towards a stack of papers and an ink jar.

In a few minutes, Charlotte finished her tea and accepted the address.

‘And now you’ll leave me to the sharks.’

‘And now I leave you to the inhabitants of Sanditon. Who aren’t that bad’, Charlotte corrected.

‘They’re not you.’

‘We’ll be able to find happiness again. We didn’t expect to find each other and be happy when we first got here, did we? Yet we had a good time.’

‘We did. But I’m sure I’ll find few new pleasant people here out of the blue’, Georgiana pouted.

‘Then you come to me’, Anne smiled.

‘We’ll all be alright, in the end’, Charlotte said as she threw her arms around Georgiana.

She had to believe it.

She was too young to be unhappy forever. It could just not be that she’d reached her peak of happiness at twenty-two and would never be able to feel like that again. Fate couldn’t be so cruel.

She shook hands with Anne, and with teary eyes – she was allowed to when surrounded by such close friends who knew the secrets of her heart – she left the place and went back to the Parker home.

The sight of the carriage, already loaded with her luggage, made her eyes fill up with water once more.

The three little loves were already outside and rushed towards their unofficial aunty and governess they’d grown to love the past few months.

Her heart filled with joy and sadness as they threw their little arms around her legs.

‘Goodbye Charlotte!’

She almost started crying then and there. How easily they said it! As if she was just going for a day, instead of perhaps forever.

Children had it so much easier. They didn’t realize the full impact of her departure yet. But she couldn’t make them unhappy. They were such angels.

‘Now you be good and write to me!’

‘And you to us?’ she was asked by a sweet light voice.

‘Of course.’

Looking up, she saw that Tom had already exited the house, and was waiting for her to notice him.

‘Goodbye Tom, I hope the rebuilding will go well.’

It had to be, otherwise what was the use of her and Sidney’s sacrifice? Tom _had_ to succeed.

‘No worry dear, Sanditon will rise from the ashes, as sure as eggs are eggs.’

She managed to smile at his comparison. But Esther’s words rang in her ears. He didn’t learn. Ever the megalomaniac optimist. But she found it hard to dislike him. He had always been so kind to her, and appreciative of her efforts to help Sanditon.

And so she said goodbye to Tom Parker.

The man she’d saved from a carriage accident.

The man with dreams bigger than anyone’s.

With endless hope and ambitions.

And no bottomless pocket to sustain them.

She moved on to Mary.

‘Despite everything, I do hope you don’t regret coming to Sanditon’, the woman begged with an uncertain smile.

She knew there was little to smile about. Even now her eyebrows were furrowed by worried thoughts.

Charlotte pitied her. There was no way Tom Parker could cause further injury to her, but Mary would forever have to be wary of her husband.

She couldn’t leave her like that.

She suspected that somewhere, Mary had noticed her fondness of Sidney. She had to give her the idea she wasn’t hurt. After all, Mary had done so much to make her happy in Sanditon these past few months.

‘How could I, it’s been the greatest adventure of my life?’

‘I’ll miss you, you’re welcome any time’, the blonde woman smiled.

Charlotte nodded and forced a toothy smile to her face.

She could do this.

‘Thank you.’

When the door of the coach slammed shut, someone might as well have swung a bat against her heart. It was really over.

Outside the children called out and Mary blew a kiss. It was crazy how unreachable they already felt while she could still see them.

Horsehooves clattered on the hardened dirt road as the coach slid away from the Parker residence.

She could barely bring herself to look outside. The hills that once filled her with excitement now injured her greatly, broken hopes and dreams clung to every cliff.

But she told herself it was just her heart irrationally focussing on the bad parts. All by all, it _had_ been the adventure of her life.

She had been the first member of her family to see and swim in the sea.

She’d attended not one, not two, not three, but four balls.

She’d made three new friends she would be able to talk to while before Alison had been her closest confidante.

She’d visited the notorious London.

Befriended the London beau monde and seduced an invitation to return there during the season.

She had organized a regatta.

And to top it all off she’d seen a theatre from a very privileged position.

She’d had more adventures in a couple of months than most had in a lifetime.

Too bad one person managed to dampen the joy from an otherwise great past couple of months.

No, it wasn’t his fault. He did what he had to to save his family.

She was proud of him. She couldn’t have loved him had he abandoned his family in their time of need.

Tumult outside slowly seeped through to her conscience. Was that a horse she heard?

She focussed to distinguish the voices.

No.

Was that Sidney? Why was he here?

Dared she hope?

Her hands shook as she reached for the handle.

Why did he go through the effort to seek her out?

Had a miraculous solution been found?

She stumbled out of the carriage.

Seeing him was like being shot through the heart.

Her smile faded when she saw his dark pained expression.

No hope. Of course. Real life wasn’t a fairy-tale where a magical fairy-godmother swooped in deus-ex-machina style to save the day. In real life, there sometimes wasn’t a happy ending.

She couldn’t let him see her hurt. It had already been hard enough for him to choose his family above her.

There was only one way for them to be able to find happiness again. They had to move on. And it was easier to move on if you believed the other wasn’t having as much trouble with moving on. Then you felt less guilty to move on as well. She wanted Sidney to be happy. He had to love Eliza. He had to.

He couldn’t remain faithful to her in his heart, even if a part of her selfishly wanted him to. It would only make him miserable to love one and marry another.

The first part of their conversation flew by without her even registering it.

She could only look at his handsome face and Grecian features, his dark stormy eyes, always so expressive.

It was strange to remember that once upon a time, those exact eyes had seemed so unreadable. How well she could see his feelings now.

‘Tell me you don’t think badly of me’, he begged.

All his words evoked such a strong bodily response within her. Her fingers flexed, her heart cramped, and her mouth ran dry while her eyes ran watery.

She could worship the ground he walked on for honouring his family and being so selfless. He’d put away his pride, desire, feelings and convictions with no thought for himself.

Alas, for once, she was at a loss for words. She believed that any attempt at speaking would result in tears. But she couldn’t let him in on that. She couldn’t show him how much she struggled. It would only make it harder on him and that wasn’t fair. He didn’t have a choice.

‘I don’t think badly of you’, she admitted softly with as few words as possible.

‘I don’t love her you know.’

She wished she could kiss him.

It was unfair how two people could be so in love, standing only two feet apart… Yet they were forever out of each other’s reach.

She swallowed away a sob.

Didn’t he realize how hard he was making this for her by saying that?

‘You shouldn’t say that.’

He had to be happy.

After that she was so focussed on preventing her eyes from tearing, he might as well have said nothing or a thousand words.

Once she retrieved a tiny sliver of composure she set her eyes on him again.

If he wasn’t able to make it easy on her, she would have to make it easy on them both and end the conversation. Nothing good could come of it. The situation was what it was.

‘I wish you every happiness’

She had to go, before her hold over her emotions crumbled.

‘Goodbye.’

Perhaps one day, once he was married and away, she’d return for Mary, and all her lovely children, to revisit her memories and make them sweet with nostalgia after time faded the sharpness of her sorrow, to swim in the foamy waves that could never decide whether to be grey, green or blue again.

But for now, she doubted it.

Because as long as Sidney Parker haunted these hills, unmarried and unhappy, there’d be no peace for either of them.

She rested her head against the cushion.

In a few hours she’d be able to look upon her family’s smiling faces, and go back to her childhood bedroom.

Everyone would welcome her back with open arms and so many stories of their calm peaceful summer at home. And then Alison would play the piano and the little ones would grow tired and beg for Charlotte to put them to bed.

And the next day would be uneventful, as the one after that.

Being home had never hurt.

There she felt useful and happy and at peace. Or at least she had in the past. She prayed she would again.

She sincerely hoped the philosophers were right about time healing all wounds.

She was kind of counting on it.

Her next adventure was already planned.

And she wanted to move on to a point where she’d be able to fully enjoy and appreciate it.

She wanted to live and enjoy her life fully.

She was too young to be unhappy.


	25. The Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what makes something M or E so ehm, yeah...  
> Here it is :p
> 
> Here is a link to some pictures of the building the show used as the Babington House https://growingstronglikeahighgardenrose.tumblr.com/post/629183866727514112/check-out-lord-and-lady-babingtons-crib

And like that, the wedding breakfast was over and they were heading towards their new home.

The sound of the guests slowly fell away amidst the clattering hooves.

‘Well, that was that’, Esther decided.

‘I hope you didn’t dislike it?’

‘It checked off all the boxes of what a wedding was supposed to accomplish’, she shrugged.

‘Indeed it did, Lady Babington.’

Lord Babington’s eyes sparkled.

‘No doubt you are satisfied that you can now address me as your wife and are free to corrupt me’, she teased with a flat face.

‘My dear, by now I know you well enough to confidently say I won’t accomplish anything of the sort unless you allow me to.’

‘Hm, yet you still tried to prematurely taint my pure maiden mind.’

She quirked an eyebrow as she looked at him.

He let out a laugh, rubbing his neck.

‘I ahm… As I said. If I was too liberal – ‘

‘That doesn’t begin to describe it.’

‘As I said, if you… If I went too far. We can pretend they didn’t happen.’

‘My my, this hunter that wants what seems hard to capture does give up fast. I expected more insistence. Or at least some owning up to it.’

‘To what.’

‘Why, your intentions of course. You were an awful tease the past week, yet here you sit, blushing like a nun when I talk to you about it.’

‘I was a tease?’

‘Quite.’

‘Did I succeed in teasing?’ he tried, turning more towards his new wife.

‘Well you piqued my interest but…’

‘But?’

He was now fully turned towards her. Esther couldn’t hide her satisfaction at drawing him in. A week of absence had made her realize how much she missed their constant banter and teasing.

‘It will depend on the execution whether I’m fine with being corrupted.’

‘Is that an invitation?’ Lord Babington questioned.

Esther shrugged.

Lord Babington laid his hand against her cheek.

‘I would like an enthusiastic yes.’

‘Give me reason to be excited, my lord’, she dared with a smile.

His lips were upon hers in a matter of seconds.

Despite that it was absolutely more complicated to breathe while being kissed, she felt she had been drowning until his lips met hers, and she only now tasted air again.

Just like during their previous carriage ride they all too easily blended into each other.

Hands in hair.

Arms around her back.

A leg over his.

But the worries were over. The ride wouldn’t stop anytime soon, and even if it did there was nothing to be embarrassed about anymore.

There was no “going too far”, a thought that was simultaneously thrilling and scary.

‘Excited yet?’ he asked breathily.

Esther grasped for breath for a couple of seconds.

‘Ever so slightly.’

‘Oh, then I mustn’t be doing a very thorough job’, he whispered against her cheek.

‘H- oh.’

She didn’t even get the three letter word past her lips as his mouth slid downwards towards her neck.

She knew what he could do there. She still remembered his previous venture there. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

And then his lips were on her.

Opening around her tender flesh.

Her nails dug into his back.

But he surprised her still by sliding his hand to her breast and resting it there.

The novelty of his affections was dizzying and unexpectedly welcome.

‘Y-You scoundrel’, she breathed.

He hummed against her neck.

And then, out of the blue, he clasps his lips around her neck and applies pressure through his teeth.

‘Oh!’

She didn’t know how but her body found a way to wrap herself even more around him, hanging on to his frame as he melted her body with his touches.

Last time he did that it left a mark and she’d been forced to hide it.

Her stomach twisted and fluttered with excitement.

They wouldn’t have to stop now.

His lips sank lower.

Would he create one? Or even more?

Any thoughts she still had flew out of the window when his thumb brushed over her breast.

He responded to her sharp inhale by digging his fingers softly into the fabric covering her breast.

‘Careful of the dress.’

Her words didn’t come out as self-confident and severe as she’d intended them, they were barely a breathy laugh.

‘A very pretty dress it was.’

‘I take it I surprised you with the colour.’

‘You did’, he admitted as his mouth traced lower still, lips brushing against the lowest point of her cleavage.

‘A new fancy?’ he asked before pressing a kiss to her chest. ‘Or is it the newest colour in fashion?’

‘Could hardly wear black, and red was never my colour.’

‘It wasn’t?’

His vibrant eyes looked up from where he was positioned between her breasts. The sight made her heartbeat quicken.

‘It was Edward’s. And it was a bit of a daring improper colour on a lady, so that’s why I…’

She needn’t explain herself. She saw in his eyes that he understood.

‘In that case.’

He shrugged off his burgundy coat.

‘Oh dear, are we already taking our clothes off?’ she asked in surprise.

‘It would be a challenge to put yours back on, so I’ve resigned myself to waiting until we are home.’

She nodded, a little bit relieved. She was barely alright with his kisses. She didn’t feel ready for more yet, although she was curious, very much so.

‘Besides, I would rather properly bed my wife, instead of having her right here in this carriage. At least for the first time. You deserve that much’, he smiled before pressing his lips against hers.

Never mind, there the knot of excitement and a sliver of fear was again, resting heavily in her belly.

‘You are determined to make this carriage ride feel like an eternity’, Esther teased.

She felt more confident while talking. At least there she knew some rules, could exercise some control. She was entirely unexperienced in this new arena that had opened up.

‘Surely we’ll manage to while away the time after not seeing each other for a week?’ Lord Babington jested.

‘Well it would be sad, and even surpassing my expectations if we tired of each other within the first few hours’, Esther smirked.

‘I certainly don’t plan on making you tire of me within a mere few hours.’

‘Oh?’

That had been the wrong thing to say. It sounded too much like a challenge.

She felt silly for suddenly growing nervous.

This had been planned and she had been looking forward to it.

She almost flinched when he put his hand on her again.

He immediately noticed her shift.

‘Esther, are you alright?’

‘Yes.’

His frown remained.

‘It’s just that it feels so serious now.’

She was surprised by the accuracy of her own words. That was it. Before she hadn’t felt the weight of their actions as much. She knew there were still barriers. Now there were none. It was the great unknown. And now that the barrier had fallen away, the burden began.

She had to please her husband.

She had to try and get at least one male heir.

Their teasing and kissing wasn’t just a fun activity in and of itself, it could lead to something.

‘Are you nervous?’

‘That sounds so awfully immature’, Esther scoffed.

‘It’s normal. Is there anything you’re feeling unsure about?’

This was her husband.

She’d always been honest up until now, as had he.

She could tell him.

He had a right to.

But it was hard.

‘There’s just so much I don’t… Your letter spoke of things I never even…’

‘I’ve been too fast with you. I should go slower. Talk more.’

Would that help? She had no idea.

She’d seen rude cartoons from time to time. Had heard about men sowing wild oats. But real practical useful information had been impossible to come by. Only her aunt’s unhelpful demonstration.

‘Let’s see, what did I speak about?’ Lord Babington teased, thankfully trying to keep matters light. If he’d taken it too heavily and tried to comfort her too much she would have died from mortification.

He pressed his lips against hers.

‘Oh yes. I believe I wrote something about massaging your head after wearing such a heavy veil’, he smiled, slowly pulling her towards him, her back turned towards his chest.

His hands slipped into her hair, fingertips softly rubbing circles against her head.

‘But I’ll leave my queen’s crown on.’

She could feel his lips against her shoulder.

Slowly, the nervousness started to fade, her worries rubbed to the sides of her head, and then out with determined strokes of his thumbs.

Her back melted against his chest.

‘Then I said something about finetuning your body like a piano, learning to play you until you made the purest sound’, he breathed against her ear as his hands slid from her hair to her shoulders, pushing her tense shoulder muscles until she sighed and rested her head against the crevice of his neck.

‘Because you see, there’s a lot of rude talking about men taking their pleasure, while it is actually very important for a woman to be relaxed and ready. Otherwise she can feel pain instead of pleasure. Personally, I’m not really able to enjoy myself while seeing someone in pain and discomfort. Are you?’

Esther couldn’t reply. His hands had slithered from her shoulders to her breasts, cupping them with his palms and massaging them with his thumbs.

‘How content I’ll be to really feel them. How many layers of fabric is that? Smallclothes, stays, chemise and your overdress? Are they as soft as your cheeks? Or softer still, pale from a lack of sunlight.’

Esther’s cheeks heated at the speculation. But how could she feel even an ounce of shame when he touched her so, all while speaking admiration for her body she’d never even looked at that way.

He rubbed her breasts again. A small whimper slipped across her lips.

‘Your nipples, I take it.’

‘No, my two extra noses’, Esther huffed.

He laughed against her, his chest going up and down as he pressed a kiss against her cheek with his smiling lips.

‘There your humour is again. I did miss it. It’s a dear companion of mine.’

‘You know, or well, you probably don’t, but there’s such a thing as men preferring breasts, and men preferring arses. Personally, I always fall for the eyes first. But I do enjoy a good cleavage. They’re so sensitive. Such an easy thing to enjoy. For the both of us.’

Esther did not wish to know that. Nor did she really wish to know how he had enjoyed cleavages before. She felt a sliver of jealousy rise. It had been omnipresent when she’d still felt attached to Edward. She was always fearing his loyalty. She didn’t doubt Babington’s loyalty, but she couldn’t help but feel possessive. She didn’t want him to look at another.

‘Can’t wait to put my mouth on them’, he whispered before nipping at her neck again.

His mouth on her breasts?

He’d written about it in his last letter, but she’d been so confused.

However, knowing how his hands felt against them, through all her layers of clothes, she could only imagine how his lips would feel there. It already felt so lovely when he kissed her lips and neck.

His hands traced lower still, and suddenly she felt overtaken by self-consciousness. They were too low for propriety. Lower than anyone had ever touched her before. She didn’t even touch that region while bathing.

Her tummy fluttered with excitement.

But instinctively, her legs clamped shut.

It felt strange to be prude now. While he’d been touching her like that for so long, whispering things in her ears, knowing he would enter between her legs before the day was over. Yet she couldn’t help it. Years of lessons had instilled shame and propriety upon her.

His hands stilled on her hips.

‘I won’t hurt you. Or do anything you don’t like.’

She knew. He’d told her.

But it felt so _forbidden_.

‘I’m going to gently massage your hips and upper legs. Nothing more, nothing less. On top of your clothes. If you decide you dislike it. I’ll stop, alright?’

She nodded, grateful for his explanation yet ashamed for her own hesitancy all the same.

She felt like she showed too much vulnerability, and was making the experience awkward because of it.

One of his hands slipped back to her breasts, covering a safe base of pleasure.

She turned her face towards his.

She wanted the awkwardness to end.

She missed feeling close and comfortable around him.

He answered her searching lips with a deep kiss, his thumb stroking across her breast until her breathing was laboured again.

These sensations were so overwhelmingly amazing she wished they’d never end.

His tongue sought hers out, enveloping hers with its hot wetness.

That’s when she became aware of it, fingertips pressing down in the flesh of her hip.

Her body pulled taut with adrenaline and something else – something that made her pulse pound and her blood run hot.

Time sped up again. The warmth of his chest against her back.

His lips against hers. His heavy hand on her breast.

His hand on her hip.

Her blood ran swift and hot. She could feel the coil of excitement turning and twisting, unwinding and tightening as it sank lower, throbbing .

Between her legs, her pulse beat thick and heavy.

When his hand moved next, her shame was fully drowned out by excitement and want.

As promised he did little more than slide his hand up and down her leg while he continued to caress her breast and kiss her lips. The multitasking started to prove difficult though, as his pace sometimes faltered and his lips halted. His brain trying to remember how to keep rhythm.

It made her a bit easier.

It was a surprisingly touching piece of humanity. He wasn’t a perfect love machine that knew how to do everything perfectly.

Thinking about how his hands and lips were fully occupied, she suddenly became aware of her own useless hands. She reached up behind her, feeling for his cheeks and sliding her hands up until they were entwined in his hair, softly pulling on his tresses as she kissed him, until he too was producing sounds.

Good.

Two could play this game.

Now she wasn’t useless, or the only one receiving attention.

The pressure on her leg increased, and his second hand slipped down from her breast.

She bemoaned the lack of stimulation, pushing her chest forward instinctively to seek out the lost contact.

Babington’s mouth left hers and slid back to her neck.

‘Ah.’

The pressure on her legs made her very aware of the heat located between them.

She wanted to press her legs together until the head stopped throbbing, but her attempts only fuelled the fire.

She made the mistake of loosening her grip on her leg muscles, but that quickly backfired.

Babington’s thumbs stroked harshly towards her hips, and the fresh air going towards her bottom made her feel like the heat was spilling out. Open and vulnerable. She pressed her legs closed again, but the harm was done.

Her hips shot up, seeking out something she didn’t know.

‘There we are.’

She was almost so startled to hear his voice she jumped again.

His thumbs were now rubbing soft circles on her legs.

Was he rubbing closer? She felt that every few circles, he appeared to inch closer towards the centre of the heat.

‘Do you feel a burning?’

How could he know?

She pulled her face away from his. His eyes were soft, his irises almost entirely swallowed by his pupils.

‘A warmth?’ he asked again.

‘Why?’ she questioned.

‘That’s what I feel too.’

He felt like this? She was almost at the point of jumping out of her own body.

‘Desire’, he clarified.

Not a second after, she could feel his hips spasm like hers had.

The image of the mortar and pestle came into her mind again, but this time, it made sense.

If they lay atop of each other, and both their hips felt this natural urge. Yes. That’s how it happened.

She suddenly became aware of his fingertips hovering just above the pulsating centre of heat.

He had been sneaking closer.

How had he managed? She had been incredibly aware of his hands on the outside of her hips not minutes ago, and now she’d barely even registered how close he’d come. She could only conclude it was because the warmth and tension had spread, making everything feel so sensitive she could hardly distinguish what was where anymore.

‘And tonight…’, he trailed off.

She frowned.

What about it?

Then he pushed down his fingertips, not even where she knew he was supposed to enter, it was right above where her legs were pressed together.

But the effect was instantaneous.

Her chest flew forward, her hips flexed and her knees shot up.

‘Oh! Oh.’

It burned.

It burned.

She was fire.

His fingertips lifted as her back slammed into his chest.

The heat throbbed at the loss of his hand.

‘No’, she moaned.

Her cheeks coloured.

Had she just asked him to …?

Before she could finish her thought, his hand was there again, numbing her mind.

It still burned. She could feel her heart beat against his fingers, all the way down there. It was unbearable. Yet the lack of his hand there would result in her death.

He didn’t even do anything special. Just press down and loosen pressure, again and again.

‘It’s not enough’, she struggled. But she didn’t even know what she wanted.

‘Do you allow me?’

‘Please’, she panted.

She could feel his fingers flex against her tightly pressed together legs.

And suddenly she became aware of the pulsing heat even lower than his hand had been. When had the heat sunk to there.

She struggled to let go of her grip, having forgotten how to control her legs.

Luckily Babington managed to sink his hand lower, alternating between flexing his hand against her thighs and pressing them against her throbbing core.

Her eyes fluttered open to see his hand disappear between her legs together with some fabric of her dress.

As his hand slowly disappeared between her legs, another realisation hit her.

Her thighs felt odd, as did her nether region. Was it… Wet?

She hadn’t wet herself. She was one hundred percent positive.

She saw herself forced to reposition her legs.

She could feel the sides of his broad hand pushing against the insides of her thighs.

His hand reached its destination.

Had she once felt ashamed for his hand on the outside of her hip? She couldn’t even imagine asking him to remove his hand from her.

His fingers shifted between the folds of her dress.

‘Can I?’ he asked, his lips still resting against the nape of her neck.

His other hand was scrunching a part of her skirts.

The thought of his hands on her bare self were too much. It felt _too_ bad.

Her hands dropped from his hair, one coming to lay on his second hand to hold it still.

The fingers of his higher situated hand curled.

Esther heaved a breath.

They were pressing against something hard, almost hooked around some kind of bone.

His fingers flexed and hooked against a soft mass.

He’d reached the destination.

Her hips buckled again.

Now his fingers were just sliding up and down. She could feel her nether region shifting. Her folds.

Tonight he was supposed to go between them.

She repositioned herself, shifting awkwardly. His hand stilled.

‘Alright?’

She felt she shouldn’t answer positively, a lady shouldn’t.

But if she answered negatively, he’d stop, and she wouldn’t survive.

‘Mhm.’

One finger started moving in circles against her folds.

A whimper left her lips.

Babington’s mouth came to her neck again, drawing even more whimpers and mutters from her.

‘Please?’ he begged, the hand she still hand flexing self-explanatorily.

‘Damn it, whatever’, she muttered.

They were married.

Soon they’d be completely nude.

She didn’t know what he was going to do, but it couldn’t be bad. Not when everything felt so delightful.

Her skirts were drawn up over one knee, his hand hot against it.

‘Oh.’

Her hips buckled again.

Her body knew. Her body knew what to do. How odd. Where did it learn that?

His hand slid higher, taking the fabric of her skirts up with it.

The stream of cold air only made her more aware of the heat of her centre.

She hadn’t been mistaken when she had the feeling that her heat was leaving her body. She could now decidedly feel something sticky against the innermost part of her thighs.

Without announcement his hand disappeared from her core.

‘No!’ she cried, but her voice was quickly silenced by his teeth grazing against her neck.

And then his hand was back, sliding over a bare thigh, crawling underneath the thinnest layer undergarments, and rubbing straight down her patch of curls towards where his hand had previously been.

Her cheeks burned with shame and delight. She couldn’t deny how amazing his hand felt there, warm and calloused. His fingers free from meddlesome layers obstructing his goal of delivering pleasure. Yet at the same time she felt very much exposed.

This time when he pressed a finger against her folds, there wasn’t just a delicious pressure. It slipped right in. She squirmed.

Apparently her downstairs very much approved of this development, her hips buckling not once, not twice, but thrice in short procession until his finger was well and truly buried within her.

‘Owh.’

‘So wet already. Oh my girl’, Lord Babington purred.

‘I couldn’t be happier. You want this, don’t you?’

‘Mhm.’

He almost withdrew his fingers, and she whimpered in protest, until he started pressing down again, his first accompanied of a second.

It was fuel to the fire.

The first had been nigh nothing, a delightful promise. This felt. This felt…

She felt invaded in the most exquisite way, her folds parting for him and welcoming him into the hot throbbing centre of nerves.

Her legs melted as his hand pushed closer to her.

She was turning to liquid.

Caught in flames.

Was this duty?

Duty had never been such delight before.

Her head fell back against Babington’s chest.

She was useless, absolutely useless.

His second hand went back to her breast, continuing the exquisite torture on two fronts.

His hand pumped slowly, sinking slightly deeper every time until at once her hips shook and they got buried deeper than ever before.

Esther’s mouth fell open, lips circling around a voiceless ‘O’.

It was a dull pain, nothing like she’d imagined.

It wasn’t like a needle prick or the sting of a bee.

And not like she had imagined a pestle would feel colliding with a mortar.

It throbbed, and she could feel muscles inside clenching.

His hand stilled.

‘Est-‘

‘M-move’, she whimpered.

The dull throb lifted, swiftly turning into a pounding pulsation in tandem with her heartbeat. It didn’t hurt.

Her insides were begging for more.

Her stomach fluttered and soared.

She needed.

She needed.

‘John – ‘

‘What is it, my lady?’

‘I- I need. M-‘

He withdrew his hand, returning with an even more delightful addition.

She let out a deep breath, the kind she usually let out when she sank into a delightfully hot bath.

Just right.

She felt properly filled, his fingers bumping against every annoying point of nerves as he slid in and out of her. It didn’t quell the fire, but it transformed it.

Turning it into one big monstrous fire, adding more and more fuel to it until..

She exploded.

His hand stilled as her insides convulsed.

Her whole body shaking as ripple after ripple of pleasure raked through her and rebuilt her anew, her whole body buzzing with delight.

She slumped against her husband.

‘Think you can bear the thought of doing such a thing? Feeling such things? Tonight?’ he jested after her breath calmed down.

‘Oh shush’, she sighed as she opened her eyes again. The light in the carriage had changed. Just how long had they been riding?

Her eyes sank down. Her skirts were still collected on her lap, but her private parts were covered.

Right at the edge of her lap lay her husband’s very active hand, turned up towards the sky, covered ever so slightly in blood.

Gross. Decidedly gross.

But at least he couldn’t doubt she’d come to him untouched.

She detached herself from her husband and went back to her side a bit.

Lord Babington immediately retrieved his handkerchief.

She’d just lost her maidenhead in a carriage.

It felt altogether too surreal.

Her world had shifted and the gravity of it hadn’t even hit her as it happened.

Her mind had been too fuzzy to comprehend the enormity of it all.

And he hadn’t even entered her.

‘But you…’ 

‘Never mind, Lady Babington’, he smiled.

As she floated down from heaven, practical thoughts came to her again, as did her self-awareness. She felt cold and alone, so far away from him. Yet at the same time she felt she couldn’t go near him after what had happened.

‘But-‘

‘It was more than a bit of fun to see you unravel underneath my hands dear. We’ll get to me once we’re home. We have plenty of time for everything. No need to rush.’

Home.

The Babington Estate.

He pushed away the curtain on his side of the carriage.

‘How much time do you think has passed?’ he asked, his voice light.

Esther frowned and looked outside her own window.

They were riding on a path obscured by woods on both sides. And… did a horse just dart past?

‘I don’t know. An hour?’

‘We’ll be home in ten minutes.’

Ten!

The surprise must have been visible on her face.

His hand reached for her.

Had it been so long? He had indeed been successful at making the time tick by fast.

The woodland was starting to clear, and soon they were riding on a golden road, underneath a magnificent gate building towards –

‘You call _that_ a _house_?!’

‘Well, I call it home, not a house’, Babington admitted, unable to hide his smile.

It was not a home, not even an estate. It was a huge castle with arms extending towards the incoming carriage, ready to embrace its owner who was home at last.

Esther saw servants trickling outside, rows and rows of them.

She blanched.

She hadn’t even had one, aside from the kitchen staff. There hadn’t been any money for it. Babington had a whole army.

She was sure the bastard didn’t even have a singly leaky roof.

The building was a stunning white and pale yellow Grecian temple inspired structure with at least two elegant crowning pavilions. The sides appeared to be at least five stories. Nothing she had imagined could even come near the reality that was his home.

Babington hopped out of the carriage, coming up to her side to help her out.

She only just managed to tidy her skirts and fix the ruffles around her neck before she stumbled out of the carriage on wobbly legs. In hindsight, it really hadn’t been the best idea. She was far from ready to face the servants.

She felt anyone who looked at her could see she’d just been deflowered in the carriage, though she knew that was impossible.

So she did what she did best, straightened her spine and clenched her jaw, covering her insecurity with a veil of haughtiness as she’d always done. This time she felt it was warranted.

Babington introduced her to all servants, but the names went into one ear, and out of the other. And her attention kept flickering to the terraces and the marble cornice.

She only managed to catch two names. Her personal maid called Mary Elliot, and the head of the household staff, Gerard Roman.

She managed to give a small smile to those two, before Babington swept her away, taking her through the formal courtyard, pointing out where the stables and smaller servant courtyard were, before taking her in through a stunning side entrance, past a sweeping dark staircase, through a hall that was at least two stories high, and to the formal gardens.

‘So, what do you think, dear?’ he asked as they sat down on a large fountain, looking at the impressive three stories high central building where she supposed their rooms were.

‘How long does this tour have to take?’

Babington threw his head back and laughed.

‘Only you, Miss Denham, would respond with such a question… Well, Lady Babington.’

She bit her bottom lip, but couldn’t help smiling.

‘I’m afraid we have to keep busy until dinner at least. But I’ll ask if it can be served at six. In the meantime, would you like to see the dogs?’

Every new corner brought her new delight. Wooden stairs, walls covered from bottom to ceiling with paintings of famous ancestors, libraries decorated with elegant chairs, large fireplaces and Grecian detailing everywhere. It felt like the house was the lovechild of the elegant houses of roman emperors and the comfort of the homes of English dukes.

However, nothing could bring her peace, not even the dogs. She was almost upset with herself that she was given so many nice things, but was too worked up to enjoy them anywhere near as much as they deserved to be enjoyed and admired.

Every minute felt slow and awkward until dinner had passed, filled with tentative glances and not-so-subtle innuendo’s by her very happy husband. Needless to say, her appetite for food was little.

Her maid got her out of her wedding dress and dunked her into a bathtub with essential oils drifting atop of the water.

She brushed her skin with determined efficiency, but as soon as she went an inch above her knee, her stomach started tingling again.

How could that piece of her have been dormant for so long? While he managed to draw the first signs of life from it in a matter of two months, and then turn it into such an annoying, attention-hungry monster in a matter of hours?

No matter. No matter.

Her maid returned and she rose from the bath. Teeth cleaned, hair brushed and dressed in a finely trimmed nightgown she was lead through a side door into her own chambers.

His chambers. Here her husband had grown up.

Everything was of the highest quality. The furniture was dark and decorated with floral carvings. The ceiling lists had acantha leaves on them, and the ceiling itself was painted with cherubs and clouds.

Like that one ceiling in the Vatican, she remembered from an artbook. Of course he’d have it. A perfectly whole lavishly decorated roof.

The room had accents of blue. Two blue comfortable chairs stood by the window to read, his bureau chair was covered in blue velvet. His curtains were a heavy blue, and blue drapes hung from the large four-poster bed.

The bed was made up with soft silken sheets with threads so fine that nothing compared to it. And the lacework on the duvet was obviously from Bruges.

A room fit for a lord.

It would probably even suit a duke.

It had obviously been meant as a man’s room, but three vases filled with white fragrant flowers had been deposited to make it look softer. One on a nightstand, one on a pair of rosewood drawers, and one on the bureau.

A portrait of two young near-identical looking men hung above the desk.

She inched closer.

It was him. And presumably his dead brother.

Her further perusing of the room, looking for trinkets that hinted at her husband’s past, was interrupted by his arrival.

‘Lady Babington.’

‘Lord Babington.’

‘My wife.’

‘Husband’, she drawled with a smile.

‘No crown I see.’

‘Maid took it off.’

‘Shame, can’t we retrieve it.’

‘I’m sure it can be found in the adjacent room.’

Her husband strode through the door and quickly returned with her aunt’s tiara.

‘You know, I still have to return that.’

‘Well, that means we’ve got to make use of it as long as we can, doesn’t it?’

She shook her head laughing until he placed the crown on her head.

Finally, Lord Babington stilled, the smile fading from his face.

‘I’ve longed to see you like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Ever since I visited you in your home, your hair just carelessly draped across one shoulder, I desired to see you like this, hair brushed, glowing in the candle light as it tumbled freely. And now here you are, my queen in her crown, in the simplest yet loveliest dress.’

‘Babington you are mad.’

‘For you.’

‘And corny on top of it’, she grinned, pushing her hand against his chest.

‘It’s almost pathetic.’

He only smiled softly.

Esther took a deep breath.

She wanted to play the bedroom game with him instead of being a panting mess.

‘So, now we are here’, she drawled as she walked over to the bed.

She looked over her shoulder.

‘One night in Babington Land, and then I steal you away from all your friends for months. Still not complaining?’

‘On the contrary, it looks more and more enticing every second.’

‘Finally at your wife’s mercy.’

‘Or you at mine.’

‘I don’t think so’, she said dryly. Despite that this afternoon that had very much been the case.

‘You know, I don’t think it’s fair Babington. I was cleaned and readied for bed, and you’re still fully dressed. Care to make yourself my equal?’

‘I brushed my teeth.’

‘Yes, good boy. But I do hope you’re not that much of a bachelor you don’t know how civilized people go to bed. Here’s a hint. Usually it’s with less clothes. Now I know you’ve had a couple of sleepless nights in the past few weeks, but surely there has been a time when you went to bed. Instead of staying up all night writing naughty letters.’

She could barely believe her own audacity, but she got a kick out of his response to her words.

‘Ah, but I’m afraid my servant isn’t here. Care to help?’

‘You want _me_ to serve you? Do I look like your servant?’

‘Does not a good caring wife help her poor husband?’

‘Perhaps. But only because she needs him to be undressed’, she sighed as she slid her hand down the four-poster. His eyes followed her hand trailing down the wood.

His eyes glimmered like deep blue-green pools in the candlelight as she approached.

His red coat was already missing.

She was actually going to undress her husband! A voice screamed in her mind.

Nervousness seeped into her system.

‘Did my outfit please you?’

‘Curious? I did not spend time thinking about your outfit, the way you did about mine’, she warned.

‘You probably had a lot more important things to think about’, he teased.

‘Absolutely. Like what kind of flowers had to go in my bouquet’, she answered as she opened the first button.

‘Are you going to be this slow with every button? We’ll still be standing here by morning.’

‘You can always do it yourself, you know’, she threatened. But she did speed up her pace.

It was easier if she didn’t think.

Once she started thinking, she started hesitating, for no good reason.

Everything had been so good this afternoon. Why was a part of her even trying to delay a repeat, or even a possible improvement?

She couldn’t find another excuse than silliness and useless prudishness.

She’d seen statues before. Surely she wouldn’t discover anything strange.

She pushed away his doublet.

With that gone, her grasp on his body became a lot better. Clothes did a good job of hiding someone’s shape.

Her husband wasn’t a willow like Edward. His shoulders were still just as wide as they’d appeared in his coats.

The dragon came alive in her belly. Slowly starting to heat her core again.

Her hands shook as she brought them to his breeches.

‘Perhaps my boots first?’ Lord Babington suggested.

‘You can do that yourself’, she decided, sitting down on the bed and raising her eyebrow at him. How much easier it felt to be the one in charge. She didn’t feel as nervous then.

Lord Babington’s eyes glimmered as he sank down, pulling them off one by one, before rising and –

‘Did I say you could take off your breeches?’

‘N-no’, he stuttered, eyes growing as wide as saucers.

She smirked.

Yes, much better.

She wondered how far she could go with this.

‘You may take them off’, she smiled sweetly.

‘As my lady commands.’

When he stood before her again, he was only dressed in his shirt, which reached until halfway past his thigh, his hoses, and his stockings.

She hadn’t seen a man in his undergarments since she was a very young child. But she wouldn’t let it show.

‘Pants under pants? Off with them.’

The inches of bared hairy legs made her slam her own legs shut.

Already the familiar heat was sinking lower in her belly.

And that’s when her courage failed her. She didn’t feel ready to see more of him.

‘My lady?’

‘Oh, do come here’, she beckoned.

Her husband crossed the few feet that separated them, and sat down on the bed beside her.

‘Since you’re the expert, how do you advise we continue?’ she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

‘I’d say just holding each other.’

That sounded easy enough.

He lifted her chin to his face.

‘My queen’, he greeted, before pressing his lips against hers.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, feeling the shape of him and the way his muscles twisted as his arms came to rest on her lower back.

He pulled her closer to him, and her arms slid around his neck.

She could feel her breasts brushing against his chest.

He was warm.

She let out a contented sigh as she rested her head against his shoulder.

It felt so good to be held. A feeling of safety and being cared filled her up, mellowing the heat in her belly.

She lifted her face again, seeking his lips once more.

As they kissed, Lord Babington slowly dragged her down to the mattress with him, until they were laying down.

She could feel his hand moving from her back to her side, tracing up and down the slope of her ribcage and hips, until one came to rest on her breast.

However, despite her experience from that afternoon, she wasn’t prepared for how it felt without so many layers separating them.

She fell flat on her back, her chest rising to meet his hand.

‘So eager, my darling’, he rasped as he turned to hover above her.

She could feel his legs pressing against her hip.

His hand slid higher, reaching for the laces of her nightgown and tugging them loose.

‘Finally.’

And down his head went. Kissing her neck until bruises bloomed underneath his lips, across her cleavage, and lower still.

She could feel the rasp of a fresh stubble dragging across her chest and then –

His hands pulled at her nightgown, exposing her breasts to the candlelight.

It appeared they were both in no hurry to see each other’s skin, glad to discover inch by inch in time.

His head lifted.

His eyes fixed on her nipples, slowly growing into peaks in the chill air. When he looked up to meet her surprised gaze, his eyes were filled with hunger.

She knew what he was going to do.

He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking strongly. It sent a bolt of sensations through her, and all of them fuelled the fire in her belly.

Her hips buckled, her hands seeking a grip in his curls.

They groaned in unison.

And then she felt it. Something that wasn’t a leg was pressing hard against her, right on top of her thigh, where he was laying atop of her.

She shudders, the blood beating fast and hot in her veins.

She wanted to touch him. To feel him as he felt her. And hopefully bring him a sliver of the pleasure his touches brought her.

Hesitant fingers followed the curve of his shoulders, down the slopes of his spine. There she anchored her hands, fingers digging into his skin as she pressed herself flush against him.

He shifts, his weight adjusting to the new position, an arm shooting out to prop himself above her without crushing her.

She’s encapsulated between his arms.

Covered by his body.

Trapped.

But there’s no fear. It’s exhilarating.

She arches her back, pushing her body flush against his as his wicked tongue continues licking and his teeth continue pulling, a hand twisting her free nipple mercilessly.

She remembered what made him groan before.

If his ministrations of her breasts felt so good with and even better without clothes, then…

Her hands slipped lower and lower, until it connected with skin.

She bit her lip.

The texture of his legs was unlike her own.

The hair was coarser, the skin more rough.

Ever so slowly, her finger snuck upwards, the hair growing softer and sparser until her hands lay on his buttocks which were smooth.

She was touching him!

She forced her mind to calm down as she reached further and further. She felt his shirt moving against her body, it was rising with her hands.

But it could stay on, for now.

Finally she reached her destination; the top of his shoulders.

As her husband carelessly continued to ravage her chest, she dug her nails in his back and dragged them down.

His skin rippled and smoothed underneath her fingers, and somewhere in her mind, she took note of how it felt. But occupying the largest part of her brain was the rumbling groan coming from deep within him.

Victory. His reaction was even more delightful if she did it on his bare skin.

She dragged her nails upwards again.

‘Gods, Esther.’

His hips buckled against hers, and hers responded to his.

She could feal him clearly now. His shirt had risen so high there was now nothing on his side obscuring his nether regions.

If it wasn’t for her nightgown, they’d be touching flesh to flesh.

‘If you continue like that I won’t… I can’t…’

The sight of her husband’s face knocked the breath right out of her.

His hair was ruffled, his lips swollen, his eyes as black as night.

She was doing this to him.

There was nothing superior to the power she felt in that moment.

She surged forward, pressing her lips against his.

She took his lip between hers, sucking it in and pulling back slightly, gently biting down on it. The moan happened again. She dug her nails deeper, and could feel the pressure of his hands on her increase.

They were sliding down.

Her legs locked again, but there was nothing that could contain the furnace roaring inside her.

Her hips moved again.

The need was back.

She needed him.

His hand slid under her nightdress, fingers hooking into the flesh of her hip and pulling her hard against him.

Her burning heat pressed flush against his bulge.

And so the pestle met the mortar.

Her burning centre tingled and twitched in anticipation.

Their hips sought each other out instinctively, both their eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

Damn going slow. That wasn’t going to work.

They had been taking it slow for long enough.

‘John’, she begged.

His hand slipped between her clenched legs, wiggling its way past the strong thigh muscles.

Her insides hummed at the contact.

‘You’re ready for me, aren’t you?’

Her hips answered instead of her mouth.

‘We’ll fit right together. Only good, my dear.’

‘Do you want-‘ he asked, but she didn’t let him finish. She was tired of his blabbering.

Couldn’t he feel that she was burning up and would soon turn to dust if they didn’t finish what they’d started?

‘You, please, now’, she answered.

‘You’ll have to open your legs, dear’, he laughed against her lips.

It was hard, the cool air immediately making her want to press them together again.

But she didn’t have to suffer long.

With a quick steady hand her dress was pushed up and his shirt aside before he carefully positioned himself against her.

Her eyes flew to his.

This was it.

Their wedding night.

Time slowed down again.

Her hands came to rest upon his shoulders as he read her face a final time, just to be sure.

‘On with it, then’, she smirked encouragingly, speaking braver than she felt.

‘As my lady commands.’

Her hips shook to welcome him, the feeling foreign and strange, but not unwelcome or unlike what she’d felt this afternoon.

There was only more of it. Sliding and settling in her.

She decided she preferred it this way. Enjoyed the weight of him atop of her, like a secure heavy blanket of husband.

‘Alright?’

‘This it?’

‘Just you wait.’

And then he started moving.

Her eyes rolled backwards as he dove towards her lips. Meeting her for a kiss with every thrust.

She didn’t think anymore.

Everything happened naturally.

Her meeting his kisses, her body answering his thrusts, her hands sliding across his body, finding new things to hold onto and dig her nails into.

‘Oh, damn it’, Babington muttered, before tugging off his shirt with one move, only for it to remain stuck on the arm he used to support himself.

Esther had the audacity to giggle, but her laughter was quickly rocked out of her and turned into breathy moans.

He was stunning, her husband.

Statues didn’t have body hair, but his certainly fit on his body, light and golden across his chest. Her suspicions were correct, he didn’t look like one of the statues she’d seen. That was not his physique, but she had nothing to complain about.

He looked like a man.

Her man.

Her very devoted man.

And every inch of that body was hers to do with as she pleased.

Which made her consider…

She stretched her neck, lips latching onto his neck as he had to hers.

She bit and sucked, having no idea whether it felt for him as it had for hers. She had no technique, going on pure instinct. But judging by his groans, and how his movements grew irregular, she was doing it right.

They were both gasping for breath as their hands chased across the other’s skin, mouths tangling, both their chests and necks bruised with marks of their coupling. Pleasure coiled deep inside of her, all parts of her body humming with pleasure, stoked with every thrust.

Her eyes had closed again. She didn’t need to see, only to feel. Her hands on his skin, indexing the warmer and the cooler regions, where his sweat pooled and where her hands made him groan. The centre of their union, hot and throbbing.

And suddenly she wondered, how would his body feel pure against hers?

Her hesitancy and shyness was completely forgotten in her passion.

Her hands slipped from his shoulders and tugged at her own dress, her arms slipping out of it. It was stuck around her neck, but she didn’t care. Details.

She met his thrust again, her clammy skin meeting the searing hotness of his chest.

It fit. It fit perfectly.

‘Esther’, he moaned, his own eyes opening when he felt the contact of smooth skin with his. Lust clouded his eyes, but he saw enough.

‘Oh my… beautiful.’

The next involuntary thrust of his hips silenced them again.

Their bodies were moving faster and faster, losing any semblance of a pace as their eyes slipped shut again. She felt something building within her. The same thing that had been growing this afternoon. The heat was growing into a blazing ball of fire ready to devour her.

It was almost becoming painful to endure.

She didn’t know if she had outed her desperation in any way, but Lord Babington’s hand sought out the inferno burning between her folds again, applying pressure right above where he’d entered her.

Esther really had no clue at all of how time passed on the day of her wedding. It had been slowing down and picking up all throughout the day, but she was sure no two minutes past before the throbbing grew so intense, until it suddenly was no more.

She comes with a gasping cry, shuddering helplessly beneath him, her eyes squeezed tightly as her hands held onto him.

Seconds passed in which she could finally breathe again, and then the pulsing returned. Slower.

Easing down together with her heartbeat.

Her body convulsed with aftershocks as her husband slowly picked up his pace again.

Everything inside of Esther relaxed, her body humming with satisfaction. Her hands were only loosely clutched around her husband as he continued moving.

She stared up at him, watching with interest as his brow furrowed and his breathing grew more laboured.

She recognized those signs.

Had he not said this afternoon he’d felt the heat as well? The desire?

If he felt the same as hers, then he was.

‘Oh!’

His hips stilled, and she felt a soft throbbing motion within her.

A low whine left his mouth, his body growing heavier on hers.

He’d reached the same thing she’d reached.

He crumbled beside her, dragging her to his chest.

She could feel a sticky something dribbling against her legs.

‘What-‘

‘I’m afraid that’s me.’

‘What do you-‘

‘If a man… fulfils the deed, that happens. It’s what makes women pregnant. If God chooses thus.’

She subtly slid a hand down, but there was nothing subtle about how her face twisted when her fingers connected to the sticky substance.

Without a word he rose from the bed and returned with a towel.

‘We’ll keep those closer by… In the future… If what happened pleased you.’

Her eyes darted up to him after she’d carefully placed the towel between her legs.

‘Worth repeating?’

‘No complaints so far, lord husband’, she answered softly as she slid back to him when he laid down beside her.

They fell asleep not long after. Her hand on his chest where she’d been brushing through his chest hair, his arm around her waist, and her head resting on his shoulder.

They awaken some hours later. Their positions having changed throughout the night.

Babington stirs, his muscles flexing, and presses lazily against her. ‘Again?’ he murmurs.

‘Not opposed.’

It’s well past breakfast hour by the time they awaken next. Her body warm and content, glowing in the sunlight shining through the window. They’d forgotten to close the curtains the previous night.

Lord Babington rolled his shoulders, turning towards his wife, whose curls glow like fire in the morning light.

She props herself up on her elbows, looking around the room and allowing it all to sink in again.

‘Morning, Lady Babington.’

‘Morning’, she answers as her gaze slides over his exposed chest. He looked adorable, one side of his face creased from sleep, the lines of the blankets pressed in it.

‘You know, I forgot where I was for a moment.’

‘Not unhappy, I hope?’

She turns towards him again.

She would have to work some more to chase away the fear she’d instilled in those first few months, when she’d dragged her heels at every turn.

‘Come here, Lord Babington’, she drawled, hand reaching out and dragging him in for a kiss.

And some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep Esther and Babington in character. While at the same time trying to put in some insecurities and struggles that come along with first times no matter people's character.  
> I hope it's good. I don't think I've ever written anything near this explicit :p
> 
> I might add just one more chapter and wrap it up nicely. I might write a story about her honeymoon can be read as a standalone or as a continuation. However the academic year has also started so I'm quite busy. I'm also writing another story that demands my attention. I'm looking forward towards trying to write some fantasy inspired sanditon oneshots for halloween🙂


	26. After: Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy times, busy times. And a bit of a writer's block.   
> Hope you can forgive me. 
> 
> Here's the final chapter of "The In-Between" giving a tiny glimpse into the honeymoon, plotlines for a potential "After" story. Enjoy.

‘Somehow I imagined you’d smile more’, Lord Babington laughed.

Esther aimed her piercing eyes at him, keeping her lips pursed.

‘Well, I didn’t know it would be so unbearably hot even the idea of touching another body would be revolting.’

She took a sip of her chilled wine, readjusting the layers of her skirts again where they clung to her thighs.

‘That’s Italian summers for you.’

Esther huffed.

‘You’re sitting in a folly on top of an ice cellar that sends cold air straight up, wearing a short sleeved dress. I don’t think it’ll get much more comfortable than that dear.’

She was, in fact, sitting right above the grill letting through a cold breeze that crept into her skirts. But the juxtaposition of hot summer air on her arms and cold air on her bottom legs left her with cold and hot shivers.

Her husband, the poor dear, had offered the prime place to her and was now sweating it out in long pants, a shirt, and a vest. His thin summer tailcoat had been discarded in a corner and he didn’t even start to trouble himself with a real coat. His cravat had been drenched in molten ice and was now tied around his head in pirate fashion.

‘Perhaps we should shorten our stay here?’

‘How’s Norway this time of year?’ Esther asked.

‘That’s hardly within the realm of possibilities.’

‘What is then?’

‘We could travel by river towards Germany or the mountainous area of Italy. Perhaps if you have patience to the mountains of Austria or Switzerland. They have more of a British summer.’

‘Mountains… I’ve never seen mountains before.’

‘An agreeable alternative to what you had in mind for our honeymoon? I know you were dying to visit some of the locations we had planned.’

‘I know. And isn’t it a problem too that you had already written and arranged it all? I’m complaining, but I’m still happy to see it all.’

‘It’ll be fine. Trips and arrangements get delayed or cancelled all the time for various reasons. It’s also possible to only go to the cooler regions like islands and so on?’

‘Hmph. I’ll think on it.’

‘We only stay here for three more days.’

‘I’m insulted you think I need that much time to make up my mind’, Esther scowled.

She looked away from her husband, gaze roving over neatly trimmed hedges within which semplici were planted, up the two marble staircases lined by statues of the Greek gods. The big villa loomed up above it, hiding the setting sun from view. It was only just beginning to lower. Her gaze moved to the side, to the large roman colonnade on the side of the staircases, identical to the one on the other side. Fountains ejected water from the terrace on top of the colonnade, pooling in the big inviting basin below. Underneath the big round basin was a large rectangular basin in which a line of fountains was planted.

Her eyes followed the line of fountains until the big arc that gave entrance to the labyrinth. It hid a giochi d’acqua, regularly drenching unsuspecting visitors.

The sounds of rushing and splashing water and bird chirping were very soothing.

‘Do your friends have something interesting to tell you?’ Esther enquired, deciding to change the topic.

They had both received mail that day. But the mornings were bearably warm, so they spent those travelling to beautiful houses and churches, followed by a lunch and some lounging in the cool rooms on the floor level of the villa. They mostly read their correspondence in the afternoon when they had little to do but wait for the weather to cool.

‘Crowe and Sidney are in France. Bordeaux’, Babington explained.

‘Oh, exploring the local wine and cheese?’

‘Hm’, Babington hummed distractedly as he read on. Mindlessly taking his cravat off his head and dipping it into the bowl filled with half-molten ice that kept their wine cold.

‘Sidney writes that they’re not having the best of time. They’re trying to make a deal for local spirits and wine, and they’re not easily agreeing on prices, quantities and so on.’

‘Can you really argue over prices for longer than a day? Either it’s a yes or a no?’

‘Well yes, dear’, Babington smiled. He put his cravat back on his head, droplets of water trickling down the sides of his face. Her eyes followed two of them as they ran down his neck into his shirt, staining the white fabric a slightly darker shade.

‘But first you have the price for – in the case of wine – a barrel, then you have the insurance costs and how much every party invests in the insurance. Some want the person who buys their goods to pay it entirely. Then you have discussions on the time for the payment, the method of payment. And so on. They probably want a high barrel price, but that means we will likely have a lower profit margin. And the less profit we have, the less money we make. Meaning we’re basically doing cheap labour for them to sell their wine. So yes, sometimes those are quite boring discussions. They also arrived in the evening, meaning they probably only started talking an hour before they decided to call it a day. Then comes what we call wine and men sampling.’

‘Oh’, Esther said with an interested voice, raising her eyebrows at her husband.

He rolled his eyes.

‘Basically, we try to drink as much as we can for free. And they try to get us as drunk as possible to convince us of terms that are very beneficial to them and disadvantageous to us. It’s also a bit of a cockfight, trying to measure who can stand his liquor best. And while that’s happening, you start bonding and check out whether you would like to work with the people. If you’re already feeling like you can’t trust or joke with a future business partner, don’t do it. Don’t trust a man in business you wouldn’t dare to be drunk around. Anyway… Oh. Yes. I see why the negotiations went bust.’

Babington looked back to his page and started to nod.

‘As I thought. Stupid that we didn’t think of it.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing, only that we have to be more mindful of who we send to make deals with certain kinds of businesses’, Babington answered.

‘You mean keeping your certain friend away from wine business?’ Esther asked, catching on. It had not slipped her notice at all that Mr. Crowe’s red wine had started looking quite light.

‘Yes. Unfortunately, he was the best one of us to arrange them in the past.’

‘Because… Of the cockfight?’

‘Yes’, Babington smirked, tearing his eyes away from the paper to give her an unconvincing smile.

‘But enough about that. How are your friends?’

‘A letter from Willingden and a letter from Renishaw Hall.’

‘Oh, is my sister writing to you instead of me now?’

‘Jealous?’ Esther teased.

Anne had been visiting friends all over the country, and had now taken up residence in Renishaw Hall in Derbyshire with her friend Alice.

‘Should I be?’

‘She conveys all her love to you and hopes you are having a good time.’

‘Convey my thanks, express my well wishes, and tell her I am melting like ice on the beach.’

‘You’re aware there can be ice on the sea?’ Esther inquired.

‘Perhaps around the poles.’

‘No, actually, around England as well. I’ve seen it, countryman.’

‘I bet these people have never seen anything like it’, Babington laughed, nodding at the garden.

‘I shall pass it on’, Esther agreed.

‘Wait, how is she doing? Renishaw Hall is from Sir Sitwell, that baronet, right?’

‘Yes. She’s doing well. She writes a lot about the gardens and the architecture and the music she’s learning.’

‘Lovely. Didn’t he have a son as well?’

‘Yes. Named him George after himself.’

‘Ah yes, no doubt a future colleague of mine.’

‘I suppose.’

The topic of the son took up almost the entirety of the letter. Eighteen years old, dark of eyes and light of hair, the future baronet and Adonis had decided he was very interested in Anne. Anne claimed she believed she was vain for believing he had an eye for her, but at the same time was very convinced he was pursuing her and had sent Esther a list of things she believed “meant something”. Esther was only a third through before she quickly agreed the girl was in trouble.

The remainder of the letter was filled with Anne describing how she didn’t know how to keep him away, or what to tell him if he asked her for her hand. Admittedly, he was a proper match for her. Young, very wealthy, and of similar upbringing. She would have to give good reasons, reasons she didn’t have.

‘I do feel wretched for even entertaining the notion. But certainly I can’t truly be blamed for thinking about the whole mess. If I refuse him I’m saying no to a very good match while I have no solid guarantee Some=one Else will marry me. I do hope for it, of course. And I love him, of course. But…’

Esther could sympathize. But what could she say? She couldn’t tell her to just refuse the man and hope Mr. Crowe would grow up and ask her quickly. After what Babington had told her, she wondered what had happened in Bordeaux to Mr. Crowe. He’d been a dandy, a rake, a drunk and a loose projectile filled with risky opinions. She knew her aunt would soundly tell her to go for the wealthiest man who asked first. But she couldn’t do that either, knowing she hadn’t chosen for mercenary reasons.

‘Dear?’

‘Oh, my mind wandered’, Esther answered, quickly folding the letter again.

‘I’ll answer it later. It’s too hot and I can’t focus right now.’

‘I’ll finish my reply. I suggest we take our evening walk afterwards?’

Her heartbeat picked up.

‘Sure.’

His reply was soon finished, their wine glasses emptied, and then they stood to leave. The sun was setting properly now, the sky seeped with pink. The cedars were becoming dark and their environment shady, while the top terrace still basked in golden sunlight.

They took the path between the tall trees. Already the statues of wood animals were becoming less clear between the trees, but they walked on towards where they knew the grotto to be. And even if they forgot, they couldn’t miss the way the sound of the rushing water clattering towards the lake from the top of the grotto grew louder.

‘Oh, I forgot to ask. How’s Miss Heywood?’

‘She’s doing alright. Her family has gotten a new litter of pups and gained three new geese who just appeared between their chickens one day and refused to leave.’

‘Sounds like geese to me, fearsome entitled creatures’, Babington noticed humorously.

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘You’ll be in for a scare once they start chasing you around the property.’

‘Why would they chase me?’

‘They chase everything. They’re more frightening than the gatekeeper’s hounds.’

‘Lovely. Anyways. She says she’s getting a lot of mail from London and Sanditon, tells me about the books she’s read. I don’t even know the authors of half of them but I let her talk like I understand, asking a couple of questions every time. And then she told me some anekdotes.’

‘You’re scowling again.’

‘I think she’s trying to sound cheerful and keeps very busy.’

‘Like Sidney then.’

‘Like him how?’

‘Trying to live a normal life and failing to be happy.’

‘What makes you think she isn’t happy?’

‘Because you sound worried, you’re scowling, and you say she’s trying, which means it takes an effort to be cheerful.’

Esther sighed.

‘It’s of little use, is it? Once you feel bad, it doesn’t just go away.’

‘I know. I’ve seen my two friends struggle a lot with happiness and temper the past decade. Either the root of their unhappiness is dealt with so they can move on, or it takes a lot of time, reflection and distraction to get going again.’

She had been very blessed that she’d gotten so many distractions, support while processing her feelings and reasons to feel content.

‘I wish the root could be dealt with. Plucked out like a weed.’

‘So do I. If I could…’

She laid her head against his head as they continued their walk.

‘We talked about wealth once’, he started.

She decided it was wiser to remain silent.

‘You said in the end you wouldn’t mind an awful lot. And I always thought I would be the good kind of friend who wouldn’t bat an eye to help a friend in need. However, there’s all the people employed at my estate. My mother. My sister. You. Seventy-thousand’s a large request. It takes me four year to earn that amount, if business is good. But that’s what I earn, I spend a good chunk of that on staff and upkeep of the houses, horses and carriages.’

An instant shiver ran down her arms. She kept her eyes focused on the ground.

Seventy thousand in four years? She wasn’t good at maths but that was more than ten thousand a year. That was an insane amount of money. She knew he was rich, but even so that exceeded all her expectations. And from the way he said it, she was sure he didn’t count his properties, paintings or jewellery to his wealth. That was what he _made_ , not possessed.

‘And knowing Tom Parker’s personality, spending habits, his income and that Sanditon – even with the best of investments – will always just be another sandy town… There’s no guarantee you’ll even see half of it back.’

Babington nodded.

‘I have that amount in the bank. With no direct or indirect need of it. But it is a very large sum to give. And should anything ever go wrong…’

‘Like a house burning?’ Esther suggested with a slight smile.

‘For example.’

‘Or us having seven children and having to split the inheritance… Anyway, the thing is…’

‘Seven’, Esther coughed.

The idea.

Seven screeching goblins disturbing her every waking and resting moment was the stuff of nightmares.

She pushed the revolting thought from her mind as quickly as it had forced itself upon her.

‘The thing is you’ll never see half of it back’, she finished.

‘Probably’, he added.

Esther rolled her eyes, it was a certainty.

‘So…’

‘So what?’ Esther shot back as they entered the ivy and moss overgrown grotto.

‘Should I –‘

‘Even if you did, Mr. Parker would have to call off his engagement. An engagement that’s already two months old. That’ll be a scandal.’

‘Would he care a lot? I know it’s a very big scandal and very rude. I’d never recommend it. But isn’t it preferable to being unhappy for the rest of your life?’

‘I can’t decide that for him. But it would ruin Mrs. Campion. I don’t like her, but the fact remains that the stain of a failed engagement is on the woman.’

‘She is already married though, usually it’s looked down upon because the purity of the young woman is then questioned.’

‘Still’, Esther pointed out as they walked through the cave, rock on one side, water streaming down on the other.

‘If only there was a way to make her break their agreement.’

‘Or give Mr. Parker reason to break it off.’

Babington nodded.

‘We won’t solve the mess today.’

‘Or tomorrow.’

‘I know it’s selfish and I do hate myself for it but this is our honeymoon and right now we will not be able to solve it.’

‘We should just focus on ourselves. We’ll see what we can do when we get home’, Esther suggested, taking his coat and throwing it on the ground.

‘Wise words.’

‘I am wise’, Esther smirked as she pulled loose the copper buttons of his light blue cotton vest. His muslin shirt clung to his arms and chest.

‘Hot?’

‘Always around you.’

She pulled off his cravat and hit him with it, leaving a wet slash on his shirt.

‘You’re awful. I don’t know why I put up with this.’

‘I’ll strive to be less vexing.’

‘Every time you promise something similar I swear you only get more annoying. You can take off your trousers yourself’, she huffed, walking away to sit down on a rock. She untied the sashes keeping up her stockings, and quickly made work of them.

By the time her husband was undressed, she remained standing in only her chemise and stays.

‘Need help, Lady Babington?’

‘Much obliged.’

As he made very slow progress with her stays – was he being deliberately slow to annoy her? – she tried to steal a glance behind her. Unfortunately, with her not being an owl, she couldn’t get a good look of the waterfall behind her.

‘Would it be dark enough already?’

‘While I am looking at your back, the last time I checked the sky was a near perfect pink. And we were alone in the gardens. I’m sure no one will see a thing. Of if they do, it’ll be only two very distant dots in the lake.’

‘It does feel rather naughty, doesn’t it?’

‘Mhm’, her husband agreed, his greedy hands sliding to her hips.

‘Lord Babington. Your work isn’t done’, Esther chastised.

‘Yes, of course. I apologize.’

With three quick tugs – see, he was being slow! – her stays were undone and pulled over her head to be laid down with her yellow dress.

She couldn’t even turn around before his hands cupped her breasts, his body pressing against hers. She could feel the heat radiating off him instantly.

‘Babington –‘

He cut her off by kissing her cheek, and then her lips once she turned her head sideways to answer his call.

Though the temperature dropped at night, they had struggled immensely to find sleep, let alone sleep together. They each held their own sheets, unable to hug or touch for more than five seconds before they were glued together with sweat, the sheets clinging to them and their skin turning salty. Some wouldn’t have minded that, but they did. Unable to be together, and unable to go without being together they had been frustrated for three days before they decided to take a swim in the lake once no one would see them anymore. It cooled them down enough before dinner to have an appetite, and they managed to stay cool for the remainder of the evening until bedtime.

During the second day of swimming they had discovered that while in the water, their bodies would not overheat as they did when dry, affording them the luxury of burdenless intimacy for a short time.

Her knees wobbled, but she refused to become weak. She broke away, holding him back with her hand.

‘Come on then.’

She moved towards the end of the grotto, between the waterfall and rock formation. The tiny path gave way to a tiny three foot wide stroke of sand near the lake.

Babington was right. The sky was a perfect pink, gently laced with red and orange.

Already the woods around the lake had started swallowing the sunlight. She could still perfectly see the formal gardens and the folly they’d sat in from far away. But it too had started turning a faint blue-ish tone in the evening light.

She stopped inches short of the water, closing her eyes to take it all in.

The chirping of the birds, the evening heat clinging to her skin, the lack of a sea breeze whispering in her ears, the clattering of the artificial waterfall.

Babington’s arms came around her, his hands folding together on her stomach. Her heartbeat picked up, yet her body instantly felt calmer.

‘Ready for a swim, Lady Babington?’

‘Are you?’ she shot back, delighting in still keeping an edge and a teasing tone to their conversation in their marriage.

‘You know I am.’

She shook her head. He wasn’t talking about the swim. He was talking about what they always started in the water. She could feel his readiness pressing against her rear.

‘Alright, then you go first.’

‘I went first last time. Every time. Actually. Why don’t you test the waters now?’

‘Well, you’re supposed to protect me. What if it’s gotten freezing cold? You don’t want me catching a cold, do you?’

‘A frightful prospect’, he laughed. ‘But you know you won’t. You’re just afraid of getting wet.’

‘Am I now?’ Esther questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

‘It’s not an insult, just a fact. You take forever to get in. And it’s all the stranger because you never want to get out once you’re in.’

If that wasn’t a description of her attitude towards everything in life she didn’t know what was.

‘Presumptuous.’

‘Excuse me?’ he laughed, allowing her some space to turn towards him.

‘I said’, Esther starting, puffing her chest and lowering her shoulders. ‘Presumptuous.’

‘Is that so?’

She took two steps back, pulling herself free from her husband’s hold.

‘You always assume to know what I want and what I think.’

She was a creature of habit. And there was little wrong with having habits. But a bit of spice and perversity had gotten into her together with the wine. And suddenly being different just to prove him wrong seemed like the best idea ever.

‘Do I?’

He crossed his arms, unabashed by his own nakedness despite that it was daylight. Being a man probably did that, they went swimming like that all the time in Sanditon, she knew. And they hadn’t been instilled with the same principles of embarrassment. Esther still refused to take off her shift. She told her eyes not to look down, but they disobeyed her command. Only for a second.

But by the time her eyes were back up, her husband was staring at her with an annoying smile.

‘Yes. I can prove it.’

‘I do love good proof.’

Before she could change her mind she sprinted into the water. Running through the rising amount of water that resisted her entrance. By the time the coolness had registered, she was already in to her belly. She gasped and managed to supress a cry of surprise at the temperature. It was the same as yesterday, but after being hot all day, the contrast of temperature caused her to shiver.

She stood still.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

And continued until she was up to her breasts before turning around.

‘See?’

‘I stand corrected.’

‘Good. Now less standing and more swimming, _dear_.’

He didn’t need more invitation. With three steps and one dive he was under. In seconds he was with her, emerging from the water like one of the great Grecian statues upholding fountains in the garden.

This time she easily gave into the call of his arms, melting against him. As had become habit, she wrapped her legs around his middle, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her around while walking.

‘Much better’, she purred.

She could feel something brushing against a part of her skirt, and could very well imagine what it was.

‘Indeed. Most refreshing’, Babington agreed.

‘I could stay here all day. Even the devil would complain about the heat.’

She pressed her lips against his.

‘Much better to kiss without melting.’

Babington conveyed his support by pressing his large hands deeper into the skin of her back.

Her skin was electrically charged, humming and buzzing at every touch.

‘Let’s just go’, Babington suggested softly.

His lips trailed kisses from her neck down to her now chilled wet chest.

‘Somewhere in the mountains. A more northern place. Where I can touch you all day.’

‘You make it sound so utilitarian. Have we no care for art, architecture and culture? Rather going somewhere to rut like horses in heat.’

‘It appears we don’t.’

He took her nipple in his mouth.

‘They have architecture over there too, you know. England is crazy for the Greeks and Romans but there’s literally a whole world out there equally beautiful and interesting to see. But other places don’t feature as much in art, poetry, literature and travel diaries. So you wouldn’t know.’

Admittedly it was very hard to stay focussed on his words when one of his hands had slid down between her legs.

‘What was your favourite place?’

‘The most unique places were the Ottoman Empire and India, one time. For work. You have never seen anything like it. It isn’t in the least bit similar to anything you can find in Europe.’

‘You want to go there?’

From her best geographical knowledge the Ottoman Empire was on the east side of the Mediterranean and India was very far away.

‘They’re both swelteringly hot. And quite far away. So I wouldn’t suggest them now. But now mountains’, he started, pressing another kiss to one of the small hills on her chest.

‘Fine, fine’, she admitted breathily.

‘Sufficiently cooled?’

‘Yes _yes_.’

His hand disappeared from between her folds and went back to her rear as he carried her out the water, to finish their business ashore.

White buildings stood proudly on top of grassy green slopes on the sides of the road, overlooking the clouds of cypresses and laurels.

Fields of grape vines and olive trees stretch in neat horizontal lines towards the horizon.

They stop at the Palazzo Reale for their final taste of Italian splendour before continuing their travel.

The road changes, turning into cobbles that make the carriage shake. They bounce past roman temples, gothic churches, stern neoclassical facades and underneath decadent baroque balconies. But in the end the city is behind them, a hill filled with wild fig trees and bushes on their left side, and the shimmering blue sea, blinding to look upon because of the blazing sun on their right. In the distance the harbour looms. Tired fishermen cart past them, their fresh catches on their carriages behind them as they move towards the town to sell their wares.

It truly was a beautiful place. But Esther didn’t doubt other places would be equally enchanting in their own ways. She hadn’t been disappointed by a single destination on their journey yet. For years she’d despised herself for hoping and dreaming, only to have all of her hopes and dreams dashed time and time again. And though careful, the tide could always turn and there was no voyage without storm, she felt it was alright to lean back and allow the future to surprise her.

And once she set foot on English soil again, covered in freckles and nose still sunburnt as it had been the past three weeks, she would be ready for all challenges and delights that came with being Lady Babington.

La Lanterna is still visible for miles and miles as the ship dances away, waving them a final goodbye and good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words can't describe how I feel.  
> I didn't intend to drag this story out so much in the last couple of months by infrequent posting. Life just picked up again I guess, and perhaps I felt a bit reluctant to end this story. I had such a blast writing it. Even staying up to write until four in the night while I was on a family holiday, writing throughout a family death and so on. This story was just such a beam of light and stability to me. And you guys. YOU GUYS (and galls and everything in between) the support you've given me has been so amazing and hart warming. I think I'll miss your comments and talking to you just as much as this story. You were an amazing group of readers and I love you all <3
> 
> We're now a year past the airing of the final episode, and I feel as if the sisterhood and fandom is dying a little bit which to me is honestly so saddening. The past year I've lived and breathed Sanditon online. There wasn't a week I didn't write about the world of Sanditon and I feel like there'll be a hole in my life. I haven't been this involved in a fandom since I noped out of the vampire diaries and true blood around 2014. So for all the fun we've had together: thank you. It's been great.


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